Put into Lifetime Detention by Death
by Harmonious Cannons
Summary: Reptilia28 Challenge. Harry learns the fallacy of forgiveness at a Maternal!Reaper's knee. He realises that maximum control is the only way to destroy the Voldemort ideology. ALL Death Eaters(inc Snape) are bad. Max Revenge, Min romance, CRACK/heavy tropey/OTT elements, so distrusted but not bashed Weasleys and Dumbledore. (Add pinches of salt to taste!)
1. Chapter 1 PiLDbD

**An Angry Reaper**

 **A/N: This is in response to the Reptillia28 challenge. There are MANY Cliche, CRACK and OTT (Over-The-Top) elements to cover serious parts as well as plot holes in canon. This is a HARMONY story - Harry/Hermione pairing because it is required. They won't jump into relationship just because they can. They will disagree a lot, initially. It eventually becomes smooth. The objective is to win with as many of those who died in the first timeline remaining safe and intact; so as such moral compunctions will be severely dimmed. Destroying Voldemort and everything related to him takes precedence. This is chiefly a REVENGE story with lots and lots of blood being spilt. No Death Eater of any sort is redeemed. Ever. No matter how much canon may try to redeem said Death Eater or Death Eater spawn, or even worse, however much the DE in question may be _romanticised. Minimal fluff._**

 **Alternate ways to deal with all sorts of bashing as well as usual cliche tropes. This means a ridiculously rich Harry, will in turn look to actually use it and not buy useless things and say "okay, here take the money" unless it suits the purposes. Bashing will see-saw. No person who is bashed will remain bashed, unless the person is a Death Eater. And the Marauders are heroes. And there will be blood. Lots and lots of it.**

 **There will be digs within the story at various odd tropes. For eg., Harry being the shortened form of Harold/Harrison/Hadrian/Hearty the Hart-humper or anything of the sort. Harry won't be OOC, as much as an _Anti-Harry. There is enough explanation at the end for it._**

 **Reviews are appreciated. Flames are not.**

* * *

"Tell me one last thing," said Harry. "Is this real? Or has this been happening inside my head?"

Dumbledore beamed at him, and his voice sounded loud and strong in Harry's ears even though the bright mist was descending again, obscuring his figure. "Of course it is happening inside your head, Harry, but why on earth should that meaaaaaaaaaaaaa…." The mist, King's Cross Station and Professor Dumbledore all dissolved with the wave of the wand of a woman in emerald green robes, with her back turned to Harry. Her hair was tied up in a bun. She turned around violently, her features contorted in unrestrained fury.

"WHY YOU INSOLENT LIT-" she started screeching, in a manner eerily reminiscent of Molly Weasley in full flow.

"Professor McGonagall?" asked Harry worriedly. "Please tell me you aren't dead too!" he almost pleaded.

The woman stopped in mid-screech, totally flabbergasted, then with her entire body slacking comically, flopped down to the floor. She looked at Harry with an expression that was a curious mixture of anger, exasperation, pity and an almost Snape-like loathing. It was enough to make Harry stop in his tracks; Professor McGonagall could have never assumed _that_ expression. "Eight. That's how many times I HAVE HAD TO SEE YOUR SORRY FACE! EIGHT BLOODY TIMES YOU HAVE DIED BEFORE YOUR TIME! AND THIS LAST ONE! WILLINGLY GETTING KILLED BASED ON THE WORDS OF THAT DIRTY, EVIL MANIPULATOR! WHAT GAVE YOU THE IDEA?"

Harry gaped at the woman open mouthed as she burst into the tirade. Finally deciding that he had to defend himself and Dumbledore from a woman he didn't even know- no matter how much she resembled Professor McGonagall- he responded in kind. "WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN WHEN YOU CALL DUMBLEDORE AN EVIL MANIPULATOR? HE WAS YOUR FRIEND AND SUPERIOR, PROFESSOR MCGONAGALL! HE LED ME ON THE PATH TO DESTROY VOLDEMORT ONCE AND FOR ALL, EVEN AFTER HE DIED!"

The woman was seething with anger as she heard Harry's outburst. She took several calming breaths, and then tried smiling at Harry. It came out as a grimace and a foul, simpering smile that was oddly reminiscent of one Dolores Umbridge. Giving up the attempt, she counted out loud to a thousand. Harry rightly surmised that he must have pissed her off to a very high level to elicit such a calming measure. When she finally regained speech, it was delivered in a cold, controlled manner, channelling her fury. "You are an utter, absolute imbecile, Harry Potter! First off, I am NOT Minerva McGonagall. I am Cassiopeia, your personal grim reaper. This is much like the accounts of Gringotts, but as you are a fool, you don't know about that either. You see, you were supposed to destroy Voldemort in last year itself, that is, as soon as you came to know about the existence of the Horcruxes. The answer to bind the soul from all his Horcruxes was in the Potter Grimoire. But you never got around to opening it. Heck, you never EVEN CLAIMED YOUR INHERITANCE!"

Harry's head was still reeling from the idea that the simplest solution to defeat Voldemort lay in his own family's magic. Why that was needed in the Grimoire in the first place wasn't something he knew. Right now he needed answers, and it would be worth them all to calm Cassiopeia and to try and understand whatever new madness he had gotten into. "Excuse me, Ma'am...Cassiopeia? Would you please explain what is going on? I am afraid that you have me at a disadvantage here. I clearly am dead, that much I can discern myself. But what was it about this being the eighth time? Please go in a linear manner while you explain. To think that I could have not lost Sirius and Remus and all the others is still a bit difficult to comprehend. I can understand your anger, or try to do so at least if you tell me what all this is about."

Cassiopeia sighed. This was going to take a long time. "Now listen here, Harry James Potter! You asked, so I will tell you everything. Firstly: your previous eight deaths. Well seven, since you know how you came here right now. The first time was when The Death Cheater tried to kill you. Well he did manage it. Then there was that time when you were starved by the Dursleys as a baby, and then again when you were seven. Next, when Voldemort's spirit passed through you as a first year. The Whomping Willow took you and the red-headed idiot out of the game after you crashed the car into it. You were noble when Pettigrew tried to curse Cedric and took you out when you intercepted the curse. When Nagini bit you around Christmas, you completed a good seventh visit. Do you have any questions along this part?"

Harry was waiting for that entirety of her monologue to ask his first question, and the questions increased to three by the time she was done. "Yes. Firstly how did I die when Voldemort cursed me the first time around? If that is true, it makes the blood protection thingy obsolete and redundant, doesn't it? About Cedric, should he have died anyway? Thirdly, why did I never remember you, or any of this? And finally, is Dumbledore totally evil? I know this isn't really related to my deaths, but he put me in with the Dursleys who killed me twice. Well, that's all right now", he finished lamely.

Cassiopeia considered him intently for a while, before shaking her head, and herself out of her stupor. "Good. At least dead, you seem to try and use that brain of yours. Yes the blood protection is redundant. Basically, since nobody but Dumbledore knew where you lived, no one ever came around. He had a version of the Fidelius on the Dursleys and not you, which meant that he delved into their minds to find out all the contacts they ever had and personally informed them about the Dursleys. That way nobody could find them even if they used Veritaserum or the Imperius. They were painstaking efforts on the part of the old man, no doubt about it. And in the short run, it did protect you from The Death Cheater's Death Eaters, but that was only to hone you as his tool."

"How did Sirius find me then? Or the times when Dobby or the letters from Hogwarts and the Ministry came? What about any new contacts the Dursleys made over the years? Did Dumbledore set up some sort of a self-updating keying system or something? Or perhaps a time triggered secret divulging ward?"

Cassiopeia took a lo _ooo_ ng look at Harry, and then started to laugh. She laughed so hard, that Harry started entertaining doubts about her sanity. At long last she calmed down. "Oh you can use your brains. Well, since you didn't take up Runes, you don't know how protection schemes interact. Blood Wards were intent based. That meant, as long as you were considered family, the wards would stay strong. Now, consider the magic repelling and Fidelius charms on the house. They had a bad reaction to the rotting blood wards. Eventually, by the time you were six, the Fidelius Charm wore off; indeed, it is considered impossible, but mixing blood runes and such protection charms was never a bright idea in the first place. The protection was totally destroyed by the time you became seventeen. The poor intermingling of protection charms and blood wards, eventually made the protections _bleed_ off."

Harry looked open-mouthed at this doppelganger of his Transfiguration professor as she cracked a joke, or at least tried to.

"You are still caught up with my likeness to Minerva, aren't you? The first three times you came here, you kept calling me Granny Min. Thereafter you called me Professor McGonagall."

"Granny Min?"

"Yes. She was James' godmother. She was under a Vow by Dumbledore to keep information about your parents to herself till you recognised her. The Horcrux in your head suppressed your memories. Your own godbrother, if you will, Neville, you couldn't try to befriend till the fifth year, though after that you were a far better friend. Luna's mother Celeste was your mother's friend. Both were Unspeakables in training. You didn't look out for her. You see, if the Horcrux had been removed before, you would have kept their memories, and would have done much better with wiser and better friends by your side. That was one of Dumbledore's many mistakes. I won't tell you about them, except this one. When you had the Goblin-sword impregnated with Basilisk venom, he could have told you about your scar. He had known for far too long. Fawkes could have healed you again, as he would have thought you to be pure-hearted and self-sacrificing." She looked again towards Harry as she added quickly, "Not that you aren't. As for Cedric, you are responsible for his death, in a way. You stopped Sirius and Remus killing Peter, but you didn't take the proper precautions to ensure that he would meet his end. You could have stunned him or asked those two to do it. You stopped one death, but that death in later interactions has to be counter-balanced. Your actions led to Bertha, Cedric and Emmaline Vance dying."

Harry contemplated upon this gory pronouncement sombrely. So death was necessary for all, but he should have ensured the right ones went out at the right time to protect his friends and family? Cassiopeia caught on to Harry's train of thoughts. "Yes. You should have done that. But we aren't here for a philosophical discussion of right and wrong. We are talking about the world that you had and still have an important part in. Before you ask the question, yes, you will go back. Unlike the previous times when your memory was wiped off, this time, you will retain your memories for fair use. That means any scholastic and academic usage of memories is strictly forbidden. You asked why memories are wiped off. The reason is simply this: people get scared and complacent; a curious mixture though it is. How would you like to know you died and still had a few chances, and then end up wasting those chances? It is normal human tendency to be flippant about next chances till you realise the next is the last one."

"What do I do now?"

"That is the question isn't it? Well, firstly, your job was not just destroying Voldemort. He was simply, a minor inconvenience. Your job was to introduce Wizards and Witches to magically modified, enhanced or invented technology. The success of the scheme dictated that you should have been properly raised in the mundane world. Not that it helped really, but there you go. Ideally, you would have taken Ancient Runes, Arithmancy and CoMC as your electives and combined your knowledge of muggle machines with magic for really new magical technology. That was your true destiny. The old idiot made it all to mean that Voldemort was the be all and end all of your life."

"What else was there that I could have lived with when Voldemort was lurking around?" Harry asked indignantly. "Even if the old man did control me, with Voldemort around, it wasn't as if I could just prance around delving into the beauty of magic! Barring Padfoot's and McGonagall's animagus forms, barring the Patronuses...or Patroni, I haven't seen beautiful magic at all!"

"Very true," agreed Cassiopeia. But beauty, just as it can be seen, can also be experienced and imagined and born out of creativity and curiosity. You had, as do many magical people, the power to connect with your core and have several animagus forms, even magical animals, barring the phoenix. Nobody is _that_ pure of heart, and that translates into their magic. It isn't really as much about the inner animal as it is about the will to do so and the magical power to transform and sustain the form. Most people don't connect to their core and only assume the form that comes easiest to them, which they then dub their _natural_ form. The point is that if it was so, it basically means that you are stereotyping or boxing up each person's personality. A person never remains the same, change is constant, and it reflects in the magic. You would have introduced this idea to several others. Besides, you could study several creatures, magical or otherwise, and think up new creatures. That was curbed, for without letting you see the world without pain or Voldemort, your curiosity was atrophied!"

"So Dumbledore merely controlled not only my life but also my mind without the imperius? He was just as evil as Voldemort, but better at disguising himself? Why now? What happens to me and what role do you play in all these events?" He realised he was rambling and not even making any sense as he just spewed the questions as they came to him, as he challenged the veracity of what Cassiopeia said.

"Evil would be the wrong a word for Dumbledore. Was he evil? I will let you decide that. Was he manipulative? Yes. Did he think that he was infallible, omnipotent and all-knowing? Yes. Did he take steps to make people do and behave as he felt was for the best? Yes. He was a man who saw the forest and forgot the trees, so to speak. Well that's not entirely correct. He knew exactly which trees he wanted chopped down. He was wise in some ways, but most certainly not omnipotent and omniscient as most people thought him to be. He really wanted the Death Cheater gone, but that was solely for the reason that his ideas, his reign or more importantly, as he saw it, his legacy, wouldn't be challenged. His misplaced idea of forgiveness was purely detrimental in the long run, but more importantly it was his way of making people beholden to him."

Harry made a moue of disgust. Yet another adult's image had cracked. True he had his misgivings during the previous two years, but this...

Seeing that his disbelief regarding her words was crumbling, and that there were cracks in the pedestal on which he held Dumbedore, Cassiopeia pressed on. "He knew about Voldemort's Horcruxes. He even had memories from people who had long since died. Why, after you destroyed the diary, did he not tell you about the scar? Why wait for three years and for Voldemort to return to start searching for the remaining pieces? Why did it fall to **_two_** hardly of age kids to find and destroy such evil magic?"

"Why indeed?" Harry faintly murmured as he ruminated over what she said. "But then what is your motivation in this matter?" he returned to his questions regarding her doggedly.

"I'll answer your questions about me as you asked them," she conceded, seeing that he was going to behave like a dog with a bone. "As to why now, I can send you back one more time, but this time the odds are severely against you, and moreover, it is more than just your life at stake. There is a set of extenuating circumstances at play here. I will touch upon that again. I know, you are trying to make sense of all this and failing miserably, but hear me out. My initial outburst was my frustration at your repeated unauthorised deaths. You see, it is marked against my work, a black mark, if you will, and that makes me a failure. Your job was to ensure the proper fulfilment of your destiny for the, forgive me for this, Greater Good of the magical society. My job was to take out as many hitches. I knew of that Horcrux in your scar, but couldn't remove it until you were told about it. The reason is quite simple really. It would have been damn difficult to prove it to old man Whiskers. My failure meant that I would be demoted to a lower, generic Death Manager. I am your personal DM by the way, as you must have sussed out?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.

Harry nodded in understanding, before asking the first of the two questions that were now troubling him regarding his eventual fate. "What was my life supposed to be like?"

"You were supposed to beat the Dark Lord, become a political power with the backing of your Godfather, pass a law for compulsory inheritance tests for muggle-born witches and wizards to prevent bigotry and for the resurrection of family lines, start your magical technology firm, live to the age of 162, and marry your soul mate. Also, you were supposed to know about your family- your true family; every single soul of your true family- not those things ingratiated to you, like the Weasleys, though they were doing some things to help you as they had sworn, by fealty to House Potter; nor the things foisted upon you, like the Dursleys."

"I have a soul-mate? What is a soul-mate anyway?"

"That's all that registered with you?" asked Cassiopeia smirking in a teasing manner. For Harry, who was accustomed to Minerva McGonagall's stern face, this would have been comical had the situation not been so serious. "Yes. Some Granger girl, what was her name?"

"Hermione was my soul mate? What? She is with Ron, and I am-was with...Ginny?"

Instantly Harry knew he had made a mistake. He could see his DM's face redden as she worked up an inordinate amount of rage. "YES HERMIONE 'SHE IS LIKE MY SISTER' GRANGER IS YOUR SOULMATE. NOT THE REDHEADED FANGIRL."

She fought desperately, snorting like a raging bull occasionally, before calming down with deep breaths. "Yes Hermione is your soul-mate. Or, to be precise, she is one of five probable soul-mates. She is the one that you are closest too. Funnily, you are younger than them all. Think about it. Why would you love somebody who looks so much like your mother? It's cringe-worthy, honestly. If that doesn't scream of an Oedipus complex, I don't know what does. She looks like your mother but her eyes are like your father. Wouldn't she be more akin to a sister if you ever had one, physically? Then she goes and doses you with jealousy potions keyed to her and another for your soul-mate keyed to her brother, and brings her idiot of a brother on-board for the plan, and he went after your soul mate. But that is not the worst part of it all."

"There is something worse than being drugged?"

"The poor girl was brainwashed by her mother. Remember, whatever happened, is most certainly not her fault, as it was of the circumstances, and then that blasted Diary. I am being a bit generous here, but Molly Weasley made you a positive idea for little Ginny to latch on to when the girl had to be happy in less than favourable conditions in her childhood. You, in absentia became a beacon for her. You have to save her from herself, in this case; for the obsession would become a slow march into something much worse for her - and for you as well. In a way, Percy falling out with his family was a big part of it all. Molly Weasley's idea of happiness was a big, happy Weasley family. You an Hermione were, for her, the ingredients that would really make the One Big Happy Madness complete."

Deciding to keep that matter aside temporarily for further rumination he asked, "You said something about the Weasleys being ingratiated, and something about a fealty. What was that?

"Well, the fealty was the reason why she really was looking out for you at King's Cross station on the 1st of September, 1991, and that was the proper thing to do, after Hagrid had forgotten to tell you how to get through to Platform 9 ¾. I won't tell you anything about the fealty oaths. Go find it out yourself. However, understand that in this matter they have not cheated you. It was not their place to bring the matter up."

"At least that is something..." Harry muttered

Cassiopeia shook her head. There was so much to get done, so much to be told to him, that it was really not funny. "There is a more important and unrelated matter that you have to consider. It pertains to the topic of soul-mates. I must tell you the rider. If you die now, Hermione dies too, as far as her love is concerned. In other words, she will be unable to love anybody or anything ever. No going back. The same goes for the other four girls too. Though, we do take interest in such situations. Since you aren't as close to the four girls, they'll not bear the brunt as much as Hermione will. Do you understand?"

Harry who had already gone green at the idea of Ron and Ginny dosing him up to the gills with potions started shaking with horror at the idea of his death causing Hermione's loss in terms of a complete life. The information overload was starting to get to him, and he was overheating like an overclocked processor.

"You have not outright said it, but you implied that Molly was not party to drugging us. But you have dropped a few 'tantalising' hints. And even that is unsure, because you are not accepting the statement nor denying it. Why did the two youngest do it?"

Cassiopeia smiled; at least he was understanding that what was and wasn't being said were both just as important. However, his expressions and tone caught her a bit short. Cassiopeia misconstrued it as misdirected anger, and went about explaining things further.

"You don't believe me, do you? Well, ask yourself this. Why would a girl with a moral compass stronger than the best magnet you could find cheat to get a boy onto the Quidditch team, but get jealous of her best friend who should have always been trusted for the simple matter of using a potions book with tips? War time implies that any and all suspicions must be fully tested. She wouldn't buy it. Where did the flowery scent of something at the Burrow come from? You have been there far too many times to not notice it before. Both of you have failed yourselves and each other. Anyone could see that the two of you fell for the two ever so conveniently. But you don't know the worst part of it all. She loved you or at least had a crush on you since your first year, after the troll incident, and it only intensified after you saved Sirius. You felt a little about her too, but as you had been brought up in an environment totally devoid of love, you never understood what she meant to you, or what you were feeling for her. The potion doses the Weasley idiots fed you – and mind you, since it went against their loyalty oaths, it was betrayal; and it was also line theft – confused you as you tried to fight off the insidious dosage by replacing the object of your affections with somebody totally unrelated."

Each word was making a deeper wound on Harry's heart. He had failed Hermione. He had trusted Ron, and Ron had betrayed him. Mrs. Weasley and Ginny had turned his feelings into a sham. The worst was Dumbledore's betrayal. "When did they start?"

"They started just after the third year; just after Sirius and the Firebolt incident. It was when Ronald Jealousy Weasley's single biggest emotion reared its head, once again. Why should Harry Potter get everything? But by that time, everyone around you had realised what Hermione meant to you, except of course, you. So he decided that he wanted the one **_thing_** that meant the most to you. Think of the locket, boy. His fear wasn't losing her. It was losing to you." Cassiopeia smiled as Harry's face paled with dawning comprehension. "By then, Ginevra had made her intentions of _bagging_ the boy-who-lived to her mother already, just as she had been brought up to think." Harry noted that she still studiously avoided making any mention of Molly's actions.

Harry just sat down, though that was a relative term, considering that all around him was just an all-encompassing white that stretched to infinity. He was reeling from the shocks he was receiving. Cassiopeia had shown him the manipulations that almost everyone he looked up to and trusted had embroiled him in. Those that had truly cared for him were dead, or snatched away like Hermione. "Why? Why did they all betray me like this?"

The sadness and hurt permeating through his voice made Cassiopeia feel really bad. "There never really is an answer to such a question. You were a trusting fool, for the most part. You were trying to find the love of a family because you had never experienced it, and the Weasleys were in a very opportune space. You wouldn't ever have believed such an act of them."

"I have lost. I have lost everything," said Harry with a dead voice, with an equally dead stare.

"Do you feel sufficiently distraught and guilty enough that you are willing to do just about anything to correct the situation?"

Harry, who by now had started to cry silently, looked up to Cassiopeia with increasingly reddening eyes and rasped out, "Yes."

"Good. Now, when the Horcrux in your scar will be removed when you go back, it will unlock your magical core. Dumbledore bound it to prevent that vile thing taking you over. For all intents and purposes, it was an excellent decision _at that point of time,_ if you look at it from one, partially obscured point of view. I'll not tell you whose point of view. I'll not give you all the answers. Whether or not he had any ulterior motives is something you have to find out on your own. When he realised that there was a surety of the existence of the Death Cheater's bits and pieces, he could have given you the chance to remove it yourself..."

"After I fought the Basilisk", piped in Harry.

"Yes. It was the simple task of piercing your scar with the fang or the sword of Gryffindor. Fawkes saved you then. Your self-sacrifice and a small nudge from me will mean he can save you again. There is the small matter of your core being unbound violently, though. We have to look into the matter."

A small door with a red-and-gold knocker materialised behind her. She marched towards it with Harry in tow, and knocked thrice. The door opened of its own volition to admit the two into a well furnished office. She sat him across the table as she herself occupied the official chair. Drawing a sheaf of official looking forms, she peered at him piercingly for a moment. "You have two options as of now. Go back to the time stream where you left it, or go back to a time of your own choice. If you choose the former, remember that you will not have the chance to claim your soul mate, because you are more likely to not burden a grieving family, even though you yourself have lost far too much than they all combined, have ever lost. Remember that. Should you then pursue any dangerous profession, you will be left having to prevent any chance of death as you know what that will mean for _her_. The second option stipulates that you go back to sometime within the past seven years. The limit exists for a reason. Most people can't adjust properly to a previous time. Moreover, I don't think going through the Dursley horror with the Horcrux is advisable. It would also make it easier to realise and deal with all manipulations in situ. If you stew too long, you will find that your paranoia will be boundless. So, what would you choose?"

That was an absolute no-brainer as far as Harry was concerned. "I'll go back in time of course! I would like to have your advice as regards the 'when'."

"I am sorry. I am not allowed to take such decisions on my client's behalf nor am I allowed to advise them in such a delicate matter. After you have made your choice, I can give you pointers and hints or even full-fledged plans to get around various situations."

Harry pondered over the matter for some time. He had to go back to before he and Hermione were given potions _and_ after he had defeated the Basilisk. He realised that he had never laid hands on the Sword after that till the day Snape gave it to them. That also meant that he had to do it when there was a reference. So he had to go _right after_ he came out of the chamber.

"Quite a good choice, I must say; a perfect one, rather. If you are sure, please sign these forms. As the fine print really is fine, and no one ever really bothers reading the forms all the way through, I will give you the gist of them. You will retain all situational memories including the Horcruxes and the hunt. Since returning five years into the past will mean a commensurate disparity in knowledge levels, I will erase your academic knowledge, but keep the spells that you have used in battles intact. You will of course retain this conversation. I will create a new memory of everything that occurred in the Chamber of Secrets. Do try to use every bit of this knowledge well. Bring out that inner Slytherin. Your mum was almost sorted into Slytherin too, but she was a muggle-born, so that never came around, thankfully, or she would've been around that bastard Snape. Remember, when protecting the innocent do not be afraid to kill. Do not force those whom you have seen together to get together again. I am speaking of course, about Remus and Nymphadora. Apart from destroying Voldemort, freeing Sirius and getting together with Hermione, do not under any circumstances interfere with the natural course of events. Am I clear?"

"Yes."

Harry then asked the second question regarding his eventual fate. "What happens if I fail again?"

With a truly malicious grin-grimace combo expression, Cassiopeia answered, "We both go to hell, quite become my apprentice."

"How does one become an apprentice in getting burnt?"

"Who said anything about getting burnt? Hell is just lots and lots of paperwork. Even bureaucrats in ministries don't have that sort of paperwork for the poor people who apply for their help to submit. Guess who will do a bulk of the paperwork if you and I go down there?" she asked with a widening grin. Harry shuddered and gulped.

"Right," Cassiopeia said as she sat Harry down in front of her, and instructed him to sit cross-legged, erect, eyes closed and with the palms placed on his knees. "Right now, I am going to help you understand yourself. Whatever that thing called Snape taught you about Occlumency was a train-load of decomposed dragon dung. Why does one need Occlumency? It is simply not a manner in which your secrets remain your own. It is more than just personal privacy. It is the first step towards self-realisation."

Harry opened his eyes briefly. "Are you going to ask me to clear my mind?"

"No. I think you need an explanation here. The mind is an intangible component of any living being. You could for that matter, split an intelligent, self-motoring living being into three aspects: body-the physical, mind- the intangible, and the soul- which is the link between them. Now think of the soul as a conduit for your mind, just as a wand is a conduit for your magic. You could have no more blocked off Riddle's thoughts by clearing your mind than a flobberworm could have eaten a blast ended skrewt. The soul piece in your scar- and remember, that part is important for later- was a conduit for Voldemort's mind. You could stave off the intrusions only when Voldemort himself used Occlumency. That is a big pointer to the fact that he was, or is an idiot. He never realised that you- or a part of you- was a Horcrux."

"But when Dobby died and I was burying him, or even while fighting at Hogwarts, I could block him off, and I knew he was thinking something. How did that happen?"

"Excellent! Think of the conduits. When you blocked him off, you were able to fill your mind with the anguish in your soul for your friend, or the excitement and adrenaline rush of the battle. Your own soul and mind are by far much more powerful, uncorrupted and whole as they are compared to Tom's fragments." Harry nodded in understanding, and promptly closed his eyes again.

"Now the true Occlumency that I will teach you, involves understanding yourself, as I said. Slowly, steadily, try to remember each incident as you know it. Think of what happened. Think of your actions or reactions. Could you have done something differently? Do not let guilt or anger or any emotion cloud your judgement. You have infinite time here, for time has no meaning. Forget the adage "hindsight is 20/20". Let your life flash before your eyes. Most importantly, judge the situation, and not the people involved." Harry did just that. He continued with the process and got a very different view of what he had done, what had happened to him, the actions that irked him, and the things that made him happy. It was rather enlightening to see his life through a third person's perspective. If he had to make a one word comment about himself, it would be, "Idiot."

"Quite right you are, Harry. Well, now let me check for a minute." Cassiopeia stared at him intently for some time, before smiling in smug satisfaction. "Yes. You have understood yourself, your thoughts and your actions. Now segregate them. Think of all of this as say, a scientific experiment all behind closed doors and with utmost secrecy. There will be hard thoughts about people causing you tremendous pain. Keep them together. There will be memories that will cause tremendous upsurge of some emotion or the other. Classify them by emotion. Stack them together."

Once Harry was done with that part, she instructed him in the creation of a mindscape. "Your thoughts, and memories of the past, **_need_** to be protected. At the same time, you have to protect the new present that you will be creating. So say, there is a two level structure, accessible from the upper storey. The lower storey should be used to store the memories of the past. You will need to keep a central control to compare the present and the past. The higher storey will keep a filter to reject anything that is useless, and segregate it _in situ_ , and send it to the corresponding room behind the filter. Protect each room with some sort of password protection, or say, bioinformatics. Close the main door with several layers of doors or anything you can imagine. It is your mind, and you have the control over it. Lay outer peripheral boundaries with landmines or the like, along with watch towers equipped with snipers. Mix mundane and magical and you will find a very tough to beat mindscape. It will help you develop quasi-eidetic memory."

Harry, with his Marauder sense kicking in convoluted her suggestions with several more interestingly scary defences. "You intend to make someone face a basilisk after playing minesweeper? Not bad," Cassiopeia said approvingly. "And what exactly is this? Parseltongue passwords! There, I've broken them... hey! This isn't fair at all! You have 'Bioinformatics with a Legillimency reversing attack'? You don't do things by half, boy! I certainly wish I could've revealed things to you after the first time you died while at Hogwarts! So many things would've been so easy! You do well if you are really helped."

"You know, you are right, it would have been better if you could've told me everything much before. Thank you, Madam Reaper, you are an excellent teacher!"

"Yes, you can flatter me later. On to animagus training now," she ordered authoritatively. When Harry looked at her blankly, she snapped, "Well, now, choose an animal!" As Harry had decided to return to the end of the second year, Harry didn't give it a second thought, as he chose, "Grim!"

"Well, you have the images of Padfoot, don't you? Superimpose the images on one another. Create a 3-D image of the dog, so that you can visualise it clearly from all angles. Once you can do that, let all your magic flow into the image. Make your magic one with that image." She hollered at him when he got it wrong and was about to give up, she encouraged him, she worked him hard at it, and laughed with him when he went through hilarious partial transformations. In the end though, Cassiopeia had successfully helped Harry into his Pup form.

"And now, for the last of the three things I needed to teach you. Do you know that magic is based on intent?"

"Yes."

"Good. Now imagine that you have a wand. You want a complex piece of magic done. It is absolutely necessary. But you don't know how to do it within a stipulated time. Alternatively, you don't know the spells you require for that. It is in such cases that intent magic is useful."

Harry nodded. It made sense. "Can I use it to bring in all the bits and pieces of Voldemort?"

"No. And that is for a reason. Intent magic against equally strong **_intentional_** magic, doesn't work. Otherwise, Voldemort could've by intent, broken down Grimmauld Place's Fidelius too."

"Oh."

"So, intent magic is to be used as a channelled form of not-so-accidental accidental magic. Do you understand?"

"Yes Ma'am."

"Good." She handed him what looked like the Elder Wand. "Now, by intent, point the wand and build up your entire soul, conduit and magic into the intent. Say you want to create a lion cub or a deer...whatever it is that you wish to do. You can without knowing about conjuration or animal transfiguration spells do what you need to."

And Harry tried and tried. He got a hoof correct, then he got an antler, and then he got spotted hide.

"You are thinking of spells, Harry. Think only of the stag, in full. Fill you mind with the image of the stag. Now you don't want to be a stag so tell your magic to create it."

So Harry tried again. It took him several tries more, but he managed. Then Cassiopeia set him some more exercises. A lion cub, a petrol pump dispenser, a golem, Kreacher, an ant-eater... She did not let him rest. After Transfigurations, it was Charms, and then there were shields. She tested him on every aspect of focussed magic. She tested him on a sentient mannequin.

When she was finally satisfied with his efforts, she declared, "Yes. I pronounce you qualified to take on the mortal world again."

"Wait! I have wanted to ask a question for long. If I died the first time around, it meant that my soul passed on for some time. Why did the Horcrux still remain, then? Also, shouldn't the so-called blood protection have destroyed the Horcrux altogether?"

"They are very good questions indeed. You see Dumbledore knew, that night, that Voldemort wanted to make a Horcrux with your death that night. I had had to intervene to push you back into your body, but as a child, you couldn't consciously use your power to prevent a possession. Before I could do something about it however, you were taken away to those... _things_. When he left you on the doorstep that cold November night, you were once again teetering to close to another death, but Dumbledore already knew by now what the scar was. So to prevent him from outright killing you under suspicion, I set up a barrier that contained the Horcrux in your scar."

"I see." Harry looked at Cassiopeia neutrally for a moment, before he went up to her and hugged her tightly. After all, she may have been just doing her job, or may have been in another realm, but Cassiopeia had cared for him the most. "Thank you."

"You always were a nice little boy when you were young. You have become quite a polite and nice young man," she replied with a smile. "You know, we have spent a mortal equivalent of twelve years here. I think it is time that you take control of your life. Remember to act like a twelve year old, though."

She then gave Harry a plan to follow for the scar Horcrux destruction and included a way to take care of the Weasley and Hermione situation without alienating anyone. By the end of it all, Harry was entirely sure that Cassiopeia was Minerva McGonagall's Slytherin twin.

"Now, before you go, there are some people who wish to meet you." She waved her hand absently, and the door opened to admit four people into the room. Harry couldn't for the life of him recognise them. One of the men looked so much like Harry- like James, but had blue eyes. The woman with him had a heart-shaped face- so very much like Tonks'- and long dark brown tresses running past her shoulders. The eyes- her eyes were a peculiar hazel, just like his father's. The other couple were smiling too. The man had green eyes, while the woman had red hair. Suddenly Harry realised who they were.

"You- you are my grandparents aren't you?" he asked as he inched towards them.

The woman who he assumed was his Dad's mum, Dorea, held out her hands wide and beckoned him to approach them all. She had a very mellifluous voice. Very softly, she replied, "Yes we are, Harry. Come here and give your Grandmother a hug."

"Dorea!" reprimanded the red haired woman. "Grandmothers," she corrected. Dorea pouted. "Yes, I am sorry Julia. Pardon me, if I never forgive that bitch of a horse-faced daughter whom you to gave birth to."

"You will never let me live it down, will you?"

"Absolutely not!" replied Dorea in indignation.

"Ladies!" interjected the two grandfathers in unison. "We have already agreed to show her the full extent of our ire. We are losing out on time with a truly important person, don't you think?" The two ladies looked abashed. Shaking his head with a chuckle, Grandpa Evans gave Harry a gruff hug. "You know, kid, I never did see you. Julia and I died in a car crash a few months before Lily married. Charlus?" he asked of Grandpa Potter, "are the looks a patent family trait?"

"They very well may be, Matthew. The portrait of Godric Gryffindor that I had seen is a testament to that. He looked the same, but had longer hair and preferred facial fuzz. Let me have a good look at you, tyke!" he said, bringing Harry closer to him. "Yes. It's so odd really. It's the Potter face with your eyes, Matt. You, kid, are going to be a lady-killer when you go back in time..."

"Charlus Godric Potter!" reprimanded Dorea. "Do not corrupt your grandson. He is a perfectly sweet kid. Don't pay attention to him Harry. He spoiled James the same way. Now, I understand that you are going back in time to save your dear ones. We realised that nobody ever truly cared whether you were happy or not. So, Matthew and Charlus here came up with the idea to transfer our knowledge and natures to you. Don't worry Cass, no academic knowledge will be given, I assure you. But you know that James was a Marauder, and Lily was very vindictive as well as enchantingly clever. It has to come from somewhere." She turned to Harry again. "You may have difficulties remembering us, as you have never seen us enough to remember us, but remember that we'll always be with you."

"Dorea is right, kid. Let that bastard..."

"Matthew!" Julia reprimanded this time.

"Er... yes, sorry dear. Let your _very respectable_ headmaster find out what happens when he goes up against the grandkid of the two of the finest air combatants in the RAF. Flying does come from both sides, you know; your seeking is spectacular, I must say..."

"Quit rambling Matt. Hammer those cowards a good one. Damn..."

"Charlus!" cried Dorea. "Honestly, Julia and I have to keep control of your potty mouths! Ignore them, Harry. Go down there and take care of your girl, or should I say, girls?" she asked with a mischievous smile.

"WHAT? Wait just a minute! Cassiopeia, whatever you might have said about multiple soul-mates, I don't care. It will be only Hermione!" Harry hollered.

"Not like James there are you?" Charlus asked with a slight frown.

Matthew cut in, "He went after Lily and Lily only Charlus, we both know that. It must run in the family."

"Yes," grinned the Potter.

Cassiopeia threw them all an amused glance as she cut through the conversation there, with a heavy and quick glare at Dorea for bringing that diversion at all. "While you are down there, ponder over how and why Hermione behaved so oddly around Ron's departure and return during the so-called hunt. Answer: potions. Trust sparingly. And remember, when you see Minerva, call her Granny Min! All the best! You must do it! Remember to not cross old man Dumbledore until you have got Sirius free and on your side! Think well and make good allies!"

A blinding flash of light engulfed Harry as the room dissolved into nothingness.


	2. Chapter 2 PiLDbD

**Tumbling Dumbledore's Plans**

Harry returned to consciousness as Fawkes laid a thick stream of pearly tears on the wound due to the Basilisk fang. He realised what the situation was rather quickly. He had returned to the time _exactly after_ defeating the Basilisk. That entailed listening to the Diary Horcrux's infuriating ramblings. Nodding to the bird in thanks, he looked towards the diary, just as Diary-Riddle used Harry's wand to try and drive the bird away. Fawkes returned not a moment later, dropping the diary into Harry's lap as before. Wasting no time, Harry drove the fang into the diary several times as Riddle's screams echoed across the Chamber.

As Ginny started stirring, Harry remembered the sequence of events that followed. Calling out to Fawkes, he caressed the phoenix's head and said to him in a low voice, "Thanks Fawkes. I have one more of those things to destroy. It's my scar. If you deem me worthy, would you please heal me again? Cassiopeia said that you would know, but I feel it to be best if I ask your permission first."

Fawkes cocked his head to the left slightly before he gave a trill that filled Harry with a soothing feeling. He took that as a yes. Hefting the sword over his shoulder, he went over to Ginny to check her well-being. It struck him hard that he felt nothing about her. That was further proof supporting Cassiopeia's claim of potion dosage. Ginny sat up. **Her bemused eyes travelled from the huge form of the dead basilisk, over Harry, in his blood-soaked robes, then to the diary in his hand. She drew a great, shuddering gasp and tears began to pour down her face. "Harry — oh, Harry — I tried to tell you at b-breakfast, but I c-** ** _couldn't_** **say it in front of Percy — it was** ** _me,_** **Harry — but I — I s-swear I d-didn't mean to — R-Riddle made me, he t-took me over — and —** ** _how_** **did you kill that — that thing? W-where's Riddle? The last thing I r-remember is him coming out of the diary —"**

Modifying the plan with a roguish wink as he looked up, he helped Ginny up and hugged her lightly. He started sobbing a little. This part needed a little acting. But it was true. He and Ginny's _other_ four brothers really had failed her by not looking out for her. "I am so-sorry, Gin-Ginny. You had five b-brothers at school a-and none of us looked o-out for you. I-It's our f-fault. Tom told me ho-how he used you."

"Five?"

"Yes, Gin- Percy, the twins, Ron and I- we failed you Gin. I am sorry."

While it made him feel slightly guilty about the way Ginny looked immediately downcast, he knew that it was a step that he had to take. He had to take his stand at the earliest. Fawkes led them out of the Chamber towards the rock-blocked mouth of the entrance. "Ron! Are you there? I've got Ginny! She's okay!" They heard Ron's cheering across the stone wall. He had been shifting the rock across the cave face and had made a decent-sized opening. Harry put his head through and called out to Ron. "Move away, I am going to blast the rock away from my side. Hide behind the rocks that you have moved."

Taking positions as they had decided, Harry drew Ginny and Fawkes behind him and yelled, "CONFRINGO!" The opening widened significantly, allowing Ginny, Harry and Fawkes to pass through. As they came to the tunnel that they had slid through, Harry wondered how a person as vain and egotistical as Voldemort would allow such a manner of muggle fun to sully him. He hissed, "∫Stairs please∫" in Parseltongue and watched in awe as a set of twisting stairs lined the tunnel. Slowly, they clambered out, often having to coax the demented Lockhart and a tired and distraught Ginny to climb the next step. Finally they lost patience, and Harry petrified Lockhart and then levitated him as they went. The two boys were worried about Ginny's reaction, but by this time, she was too tired to care.

They soon found themselves outside Professor McGonagall's office. Harry and Ron had a small exchange of looks of trepidation, and then pushed the door open to be met by a crying Mrs. Weasley rushing over to crush them into a massive hug (here Harry was struck by paranoia: was she already trying to crush him into Ginny?) with a war-cry that sounded like her daughter's name. An encore of the 'explanation' performance that had taken place as Harry remembered from all those years ago ensued. The only difference was the look in Harry's eyes when he looked at Dumbledore. It was a reason of immense disquiet for the aged Headmaster. It reeked of distrust, confusion and determination, a very curious amalgamation that was reflected in his facial features. When Dumbledore moved to dismiss them all, Harry spoke out again.

"Sir, I meant to say something, if you wouldn't mind."

"Indeed, do say what you wish to."

"Thank you. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, firstly I am very sorry that things ever came to this. Ginny had five elder brothers to look out for her; Percy, Fred, George, Ron and I. I for one am prepared to say that I failed her. We should have kept an eye out for her, to see whether she was able to cope with the stress of leaving home for the first time and integrating at Hogwarts. I feel ashamed of myself. I failed you and Ginny miserably. I am sorry. I can't really apologise enough." He kept his head bowed, as if in shame. He was on the path to damnation, he inwardly mused. He was using even this situation to emphasise his position. Mrs. Weasley burst into a new bout of tears while Mr. Weasley pulled him into a hug.

"Harry, I don't need your apologies. Considering yourself as her brother, you went above and beyond that line of duty to kill a basilisk and then the spirit that possessed her. I am proud of you son."

It was for a reason that Harry always liked Arthur Weasley. He was somebody who could always articulate exactly what he meant. Smiling a bit weakly, Harry continued, "The other thing is that I would suggest that you get help from a mind-healer. In the muggle world, people who undergo severe trauma as Ginny did are treated for PTSD or Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. It entails very ghastly nightmares, self-loathing and such. Please understand that I am not saying that she is touched in the head or anything like that. I have failed her once. I won't fail my new sister again. Believe me when I say that it will help in the long run. I will help you with the finances if needed, and I sincerely mean it."

Dumbledore froze. This could mean the idea of a Horcrux being known to the Healer. "Harry, surely it is not necessary, my-"

"It absolutely is, Professor. I can understand that such a situation calls for secrecy, but we can always have the Healer taking an Unbreakable Vow on top of the non-disclosure oath which is contained in their Healer's Oath. But leaving her untreated is the last thing to do. It will prolong her suffering till she may end up losing touch with reality. A neighbour of the Dursleys underwent this situation after she accidentally knocked down a lady carrying a baby with her car. She never recovered from the shock. Ginny's been through worse. She absolutely must have treatment."

Dumbledore was unable to put across any good argument against this. He was also unable to make head or tail of this rebellious and decisive Harry facing him. Professor McGonagall came to the rescue here. "The lad is absolutely right Albus. We have to take this step. Ginny cannot live the rest of her life in trauma caused by a single mistake."

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley beamed at Harry understanding the necessity and the usefulness of the suggestion. Ron slung an arm across, and chose the moment to make a comment to diffuse the tension. "So that means Ginny will have at least two overprotective prats hounding her till Harry and I pass our NEWTs!" Weak as the humour was, it did the trick. It also brought to Harry's notice that Ron had shown no malice or jealousy at that point that would really harm him, not that the jealous carrot would be trusted ever. Harry decided he was going to improve his acting skills. He also realised that he was speaking more than he would have, or as some would call it, ranting. But that was the pinnacle of the rights and abilities of the **N** ew and **I** mproved, **T** ime- **T** ravelling, **E** mpowered **N** ew Harry, with the capitals and all. Or maybe, it was just the rhetoric ability of his grandfather who wanted to be the Minister, bleeding through.

"Lastly, when Hermione wakes up and Hagrid returns could you all join them and me? I have something more to show and discuss, but I am afraid I can't do that with Ginny present. She will be scared, and that's the last thing we need now. I will also need the Sword at that time, Professor Dumbledore."

Dumbledore's fear grew. The lad's mind was now completely foggy. Legillimency wasn't helping. He would have to play along, the old man realised. "Indeed. How about tomorrow afternoon around three, in my office? Before I forget, you two boys get the Special Services to the School award and two hundred points apiece."

This saw some subdued cheering. Harry smiled indulgently, still clutching the Sword. He hadn't however, factored in Lucius Malfoy and Dobby. As he burst into the room under the furious glares of four Weasleys and Harry and McGonagall, he strode up to Dumbledore in a very cocksure pompous manner. It was during their exchange that Harry played his next move: free Dobby, goad Lucius into attacking him, expose Lucius as a Death Eater, get Amelia Bones to interrogate him, undermine Fudge.

"Is it not very interesting, Mr. Malfoy," Harry chimed in wrapping the diary into his handkerchief and handing it to the man, "that Ginny was given this diary the at the _exact same_ time as your and Mr. Weasley's brawl in Diagon Alley?

"Are you accusing me?" seethed Malfoy

"Oh yes I am, Death Eater. In Flourish and Blotts', you picked up her old Transfiguration book and slipped the diary inside it, didn't you?" Harry was deliberately serene and calm as he said this.

"Prove it." Malfoy's anger was audible through his grit teeth.

"Why don't you take a Wizard's oath and prove you didn't?" countered Harry.

"I will not do so at the insistence of a mere boy, you brat!"

"House Weasley demands this Oath!" interjected Mr. Weasley.

"Don't forget Weasley, you are simply an Ancient House. I am the Lord of a Noble House. I don't have to cave in to you demands!"

"Perhaps the Chief Warlock can demand it on the insistence of the aggrieved party?" interrupted Harry.

Dumbledore was in a fix. Here was a person he had hoped to bring back from the dark, someone he had hoped to set onto the path of redemption. Yet if he did not sacrifice Lucius, there were people here who would claim that he was being too lenient- _that he was going dark_. He could have said that his hands were tied, were it not for the fact that a Ministry worker was present among them. "Lucius Malfoy, as the Chief Warlock, I demand an oath of innocence from you on behalf of the aggrieved party."

In front of witnesses, Lucius Malfoy was well and truly cornered. He didn't even realise as he flung the handkerchief aside and Dobby caught it. He raised his wand and as the room waited in anticipation. If he was caught, he decided, he would perform a last service for his master. It was not the wisest of moves, but then again, nor was placing a Horcrux in innocent hands, or following Voldemort. Finally his nerve broke under the tension and he snarled, "Why you little whelp! AVADA KEDAVRA!"

Harry had been expecting it and quickly moved aside, and aimed at Malfoy in the same move. "REDUCTO!" he cried, blasting off Malfoy's wand hand cleanly off his shoulder. That was one Death Eater down to never fight again. With a quickly incanted "Incendio!" he cauterised the wound. Raising his wand to Malfoy's left sleeve, he tore it open to reveal the Dark Mark. Smirking, he turned around to the audience which was sitting petrified with fear. "I believe this is enough to arrest Mr. Malfoy here?"

"Yes", said McGonagall, thoroughly shaken by the events. "I am going to call Amelia Bones herself. I won't allow Fudge and his upstanding citizen argument when Lucius Malfoy attempts to murder students inside Hogwarts."

"HARRY!" yelled Dumbledore. "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE? WHAT SORT OF VIOLENCE WAS THIS?"

"Perhaps you missed it, Headmaster, but Mr. Malfoy here fired the Killing Curse at me. I have no intention to let murderers get away lightly."

"Don't you feel a shred of regret?" Dumbledore asked in a shrill tone with a disappointed look.

Harry winced momentarily, and then bowed his head. "I do sir..." Dumbledore heaved a sigh of relief. "I regret missing his head or chest. He is a threat to the peace of the magical community, and I missed the chance to exterminate him. I do regret that."

Everyone gasped at that. "Harry, this is the path to darkness. He could've been redeemed..."

"There is no redemption for Death Eaters, Headmaster. These are the scum of the earth who willingly raped, murdered, tortured, pillaged and performed several atrocities. I am not light. I am not dark. I don't care for such definitions. Either you are my friend or an enemy. Lucius Malfoy attacked my near and dear ones, and fired a killing curse at me. I classify him as an enemy. I tried my best to put him down like the rabid dog that he is. I have neither the intention, nor the cruelty or insanity to be a murderer. What I did was in self-defence. He needed to be destroyed. I'll leave that to Chief Bones. I have just killed a basilisk, which also bit me, damn it, so I am not in a mood to listen to your pacifism. It hurts like a female canine specimen." There were gasps as Minerva hurried around to check his arm, which he was once again holding gingerly. "Fawkes cried on the wound, but still. And it is making me angry. So just shut the fuck up."

Every single person in the room was shocked to hear Harry speaking that way. So shocked were they, in fact, that they couldn't get a chastisement out of their mouths. Harry would swear every so often, but telling **_Albus Dumbledore to shut the fuck up?_** Then again, a Basilisk's bite was probably a good enough reason. He didn't let them dwell on that though.

"Mr. Weasley, thank you for your unexpected, but not unwelcome intervention. I meant to trap Malfoy and had the plan ready from the time that we came out of the Chamber. Nobody harms my family. Anyone foolish enough to attempt it will be totally, utterly, destroyed, annihilated or whatever similar word you may choose. He hurt Hermione and Ginny. Now Death will be _too_ kind for Mr. Malfoy. He will be taken down **_piece_** by **_piece_**."

His words delivered in a silky, maliciously nonchalant manner sent shivers down everyone's spine. A minute later, Amelia Bones along with Aurors Hestia Jones and Herbert Adams stepped out of the Floo and looked happy to finally get her hands on the elusive Malfoy. "Chief Bones, if I may."

"Indeed Mr. Potter."

"How did this bastard-"

"Mr. Potter!" reprimanded Professor McGonagall in a scandalised tone. It was only for show, of course. Minerva herself wanted to call Lucius Malfoy worse than just 'bastard' when the blonde-haired ponce was a wee firstie.

"Sorry Professor. How did this upstanding, honourable bastard-"

"Language, Harry!" Molly scolded. He pouted and grimaced at her.

"How did this criminal slip through the hands of Law last time?"

"He claimed to be under the Imperius Curse."

"I see. If I may suggest so, would you, during the course of your interrogation, ask him if it was possible to take the Dark Mark unwillingly or under the Imperius Curse? Also, if you could ask him about the initiation that was required for such a cult tattoo, it might provide you lots of answers. Please also ask him if he willingly gave Ginevra Weasley a Dark object to unleash the terror in the Chamber of Secrets or to cleanse Hogwarts of mudbloods and other filth. Please use this exact wording, however denigrating it may seem. Please do keep it quiet. Professor McGonagall said something that insinuated that our Minister is shielding this murderer. It would be a way to bring out his corruption too. I also claim the basilisk that I have killed by right of conquest, and promise to show it to all those present here."

Amelia looked at Harry in frank appreciation. He had given her Lucius Malfoy on a silver platter. And then, he had given her enough material to bring down several others. But the talk of a Basilisk made her blood run cold. "Are you sure Mr. Potter? There was a-a basilisk?"

"I reiterate Madame. I will be contacting Gringotts for the rendering of this creature in the coming week. Since I am the only Parselmouth around still alive, the Chamber cannot now be opened without my intervention. The dark object that possessed my sister in all but blood made her a temporary Parselmouth. She is blameless in this whole situation. I believe if we could all convene a week later, I can lead you down to this abomination that I have executed. I do have a condition that anyone bearing the Dark Mark will not benefit in any manner from this. This should be checked before the distribution of the proceeds as I shall divide them."

He decided to make the claim official on a spark of inspiration, now that he had a Ministry witness. "I, Hadrian James Potter, claim by rights of conquest in battle the carcass of the basilisk entombed in the Chamber of Secrets. I vow to use the funds generated thereof in wisdom, need and charity. No bearer of the Mark of Lord Voldemort, aka Tom Marvolo Riddle shall benefit from the process. May magic judge my terms." A blinding light engulfed them all, signifying the acceptance of those terms.

He also grumbled inwardly a bit about his dad sticking him with such a pretentious name, which would have to be used for all magical declarations and contracts and such. Honestly, Harry was a name good enough for the Prince. He found himself empathising with Tonks for the first time. Of course, if he was a character in a fictional story which was a take on the original story, he would have realised that McGonagall was required to use his real name during sorting.

"May I also add, Director, that a lot of people will be severely... _inconvenienced_ by what Lucius Malfoy will eventually have to speak. While I certainly would like to see him abdicate his hold on his life, as of now, it would be wise to keep him under a Fidelius."

Amelia only looked at him oddly and nodded. He was overstepping his bounds a bit, teaching his grandmother to suck eggs, but still, it couldn't be denied that he was being sensible.

Albus Dumbledore was looking at Harry with worry written large across his face. How did this boy manage to be so... _Slytherin_ in his approach? He had overruled the Headmaster who could not go against any of the boy's statements. He had also cut down any hope for Severus. By claiming the conquest in the presence of the Head of the DMLE, the boy had made sure that he had a Ministry witness to the first claim. That meant that Harry would not be convinced to allow a leeway for Severus to get the windfall as he had hoped. The basilisk money could then be converted to a war fund for the Order. Perhaps he would reveal more in their meeting the next day. It would not do to press him now. Lucius had disappointed him. This was a person who could've been brought to the light, but had resorted to trying to kill Harry.

Minerva McGonagall was mightily impressed with the way her cub dealt with the situation. He had taken down a Basilisk and then a much more dangerous creature in Lucius Malfoy. He had shown the sense of righteous mischief and cunningness he had no doubt inherited from James and Lily. It was a pleasure to watch the original Harry, one that she had once held in her hands as a grandmother would, come to the fore.

Arthur and Molly Weasley were watching the powerful boy who had gone a long way towards protecting them and their daughter. They were thanking the stars that their son, who currently was entertaining similar thoughts, chose to sit with and befriend this boy that day on the train, even if it was out of curiosity. He had given almost conclusive proof towards Ginny's innocence and Malfoy's culpability, and that was after saving their precious daughter's life. He had done more in one night for them than anyone had ever done for them before. He had called them family. They were going to treat him as family. It was always going to be the least they could do. (Molly was a bit put-out by him calling her daughter his sister, but it wasn't important for her at that instant.) Their daughter meanwhile was heartbroken. Her hero had not only come to save her, the damsel-in-distress, but had also further protected her from the law by proving her innocence, almost getting murdered in the process. Yet he was calling himself her brother and her parents and brother no doubt agreed with him.

Ron was beside himself with anger and hatred. His best friend, who had gone so far as to call him a brother, was almost murdered by Malfoy. Anyone bearing that name would now be persona non grata for him and his family, even beyond the familial enmity. He also resolved to be a better friend. He knew that he was sometimes consumed by a pang of jealousy. But how could he be jealous of Harry now?

Dobby was happy that the great Harry Potter had asked him to recuperate and get well so that he could ask the elf to work for him. That was after helping to free Dobby from the Malfoys. Dobby was one happy elf.

* * *

Harry had lived through the timeline twice, yet the joy he felt at seeing Hermione come back was the same. In fact, knowing what he knew now, he felt happier and blushed a bit as she hugged him. He simply couldn't resist twirling her around as she did so. Here was Hermione; **_his_** Hermione, **_his_** soul-mate. Hermione on her part wouldn't let go of Harry once she heard about Lucius' attempt on his life. He was her first and best friend. She would be damned if she let him go. As soon as she hugged him, Harry purely on instinct, and with strength he didn't know he had, physically lifted Hermione and twirled her around with a distinct chuckle of relief. He then set her down and growled to a blushing Hermione, "The next time you scare me like that Hermione, I am going to wrap you up in cotton wool and put you at the top of a tower like Rapunzel!" He somehow couldn't find it in himself to let go of her for a long time.

When Hagrid came in at half-past three and cuffed Harry and Ron into their plates, Harry immediately turned around and hugged the half-giant as tightly as he could. Looking up at him, he said, "Hagrid, you were with me when we bought my wand. May I come with you when we buy a new one for you? You were in third year too when you were wrongly expelled. You can learn with us next year!" The gentle man couldn't help but beam at his excited young friend with teary eyes. In all his years, only his father had truly cared for him that much. Now he had three young new friends caring for him. He felt the effects of Azkaban wash off him. Harry's next words more than made up the effect of the dementors. "I am going to sue the Ministry for wrongful confinement. They will be forced to pay you damages and issue a formal apology. We won't let them live this down."

Albus was astounded by this anti-establishment behaviour that Harry was displaying. By ensuring that he was helping his friends and doing so stoutly, he was gathering a following of his own. He himself hadn't thought Hagrid's issue to be as important. Harry had placed himself in a position of perfect influence. Was this the start of another Dark Lord?

At that moment, Draco chose to spout out his anger. "Potter!" he snarled. "You'll pay for what you've done to my father! You..."

Harry smiled and waved at Draco calmly. With a silent Sonorus charm on himself, he whispered, " **Tch- tch, Draco. Is this the way to behave with someone you owe a life-debt to?** " His whisper was sibilant, and chilling. " **Come now, you don't honestly believe that you'll not owe me when I slew the Basilisk that was threatening the school? I have claimed it, by the way..."**

This brought out Snape's anger. He started to yell. **"POTTER!"** shouted Snape. **"It was school property! You have no right to claim it! It is mine, by rights! You will do no such thing as claiming the carcass, you arrogant little turd! You shall lead me down to the Chamber! You arrogant boy! You are just as..."**

" **OH FOR THE LOVE OF GOD! Shut up! Bloody hell! I will have to repeat my little speech all over again. I will have to make a small speech to you!** " Harry shouted, in extreme irritation at being interrupted in his semi-evil megalomaniac speech. He flicked his wand at Snape, silencing, disarming and sticking him to his chair in that action. " **Silence yourself, Potions-Master Snape. I will not lead anyone in the Chamber except the Gringotts representatives. I have made arrangements with Director Bones already to contact them and the Head of the DCMC. Of course, you are welcome to protest against that with her. As such you will be a part of the bounty anyway, so long as you are not a Death Eater. Magic, after all, has found my terms and conditions valid."** That silenced Snape. He could hardly shout out abuse about the condition without exposing himself as a Death Eater. He could also not claim the carcass if he went up to Bones for then she would expose him as a Death Eater.

"So as I was saying," he switched to the chilling sibilant whisper, " **I have claimed it, by the way. Right in the presence of the Director of the DMLE as Ministry witness, I add. Maybe I'll call the debt soon, considering that it was** ** _your father_** **who placed the device that unleashed the Basilisk...** "

"Mr. Potter!" shouted Dumbledore from the Head Table. Harry was revealing far too many secrets! "Do not make unsubstantiated claims..."

" **Please retract your words, Headmaster. The Potter name won't accept such effrontery from anyone, and most especially not from** ** _you_** **. As you all did nothing to stop the school from behaving in a reprehensible manner with me, I am very much within my rights to call out the family that committed the crime. Every person- including you, Headmaster, for the period for which you were at the school- owes me a life debt. You'll find that not insinuating I am a liar on top of calling me a Dark Lord or a murderer will be to your benefit. As such, since I have claimed the carcass by rights, people will know about it when they receive their compensation.** "

Harry then turned to Draco. " **So, little Draco, you may find need to hold your tongue when you speak, henceforth. I, Hadrian James Potter, call upon Magic herself to adjudicate my claim of a Life-Debt owed to me by Draco Regulus Malfoy for my actions regarding the slaying of a Basilisk that threatened life at the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Draco Malfoy, henceforth, you shall not even think the words such as mud-blood, half-blood, blood traitor and any other racially discriminatory and derogatory terms. You'll stand near the podium and publicly apologise to every person you have so denigrated. Should you come across anyone participating in such behaviour, you will strive actively to act against it. Your father will have to speak the truth regarding the Diary he slipped into innocent hands, as well as providing all possible information regarding any and all malpractices in the Ministry, including corruption up to any level of office truthfully. He has to, provide any information about all past and present Death Eaters and also about the management and organisation of the terrorist organisation- including how the Mark is** ** _earned;_** **whether the mark allows the DEs to betray their master; whether it is possible for a marked Death Eater to spy against Voldemort or renounce or betray him in anyway and still live. He will have to plead guilty to the charge of firing a killing curse at me. You'll renounce all ties to Lucius Abraxas Malfoy, as well as his ideals and teachings. You will not retaliate through attacks on anyone, directly or indirectly, through your peers or through your father's contacts. You will bring all attacks by your Housemates to the notice of the Heads of Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. You will not report to, or seek support from the Head of Slytherin, who also so very conveniently happens to be your godfather. Should you even think of insulting anyone, or even tacitly supporting another person supporting Tom Marvolo Riddle's views on blood purity, your magic, life and your line and family magic will be forfeit to the House of Potter, and no child will ever be sired from or by anyone who shall claim the name of Malfoy. So I claim, so you shall accept.** "

There was a flash of golden light, and then a beam of light joined the two schoolyard rivals before dissipating in a glow around each of them, causing Draco to whimper, before bowing his head as he ground out, " **Yes...Potter.** "

Harry smiled cruelly. The little shit had as much chance at redemption at thirteen as he had when he chose to take the mark. The shackles of the debt were so tight that he would bleed due to them. Would he die? Probably.

Someone from the Hufflepuff table, probably Ernie MacMillan, asked, "And how do you know to ask all of this, Potter?"

" **Unlike most other people in this Magical World, I researched, MacMillan. I am capable of reading books and papers, finding facts and getting them right before I accuse people of anything. I am not as stupid as people continually prove themselves to be. You see, MacMillan, there is something called investigation and proof, which have to be present before people take the risk of making unsubstantiated allegations and risking breaking alliances."** Ernie paled. He realised exactly what threat had been issued. His father was going to kill him; there was no doubt about that.

Harry turned back to Draco as he continued, **"** **Remember** , **Heir Malfoy, you have been given the last chance to change. I don't forgive. It will now be your words and actions that will decide the fate of the Malfoy line. One word from you the wrong way and you shall be history. Remember that and you might live." '** Might' was the operative word. He didn't expect Draco to find any way out, for he had ensured there was none. And as stupid as Draco was, he would end up attempting to break open the chaffing bindings and well...the Houses of Potter and Black wouldn't grieve for him.

Disarmed, stuck and silenced, though he may have been, the Death Eater in the Hall understood what had just happened. Severus Snape looked at the son of his old adversary in surprise... at least, with as much as he could let past his shields. This was a Slytherin move, if there was ever one. He had legally hurt Lucius physically, and then he had destroyed the credibility of the whole Malfoy family in front of the whole school. He had also destroyed Severus Snape with respect sprinkled on top for good measure.

To a casual observer, the Life Debt was nothing more than a large degree of horribly cruel revenge against a school bully. In reality, it was a masterpiece of cunningness. Potter had hurt Lucius, the financer of the Death Eater movement where it hurt the most, extracting a promise for baring all the nefarious activities by the Death Eaters and the corrupt employees in the Ministry. The mention of the slaying of the Basilisk and calling the Life Debt had made the rest of the school sit up and take notice of the boy, fuelling the legend surrounding him, while at the same time putting the fear of God in them. It was a cardinal rule of Life Debts that they couldn't be claimed if the one that caused the life-threatening situation to occur resolved the situation. That way he had proved his innocence. Simultaneously he would have the Slytherin House fearing him as well, since he hadn't called the debts of any of the others, but merely shown them that they owed him. After all, everyone- including himself, he realised with a shudder of fear- owed Potter a Life Debt. Again, the knock down he gave his and Dumbledore's credibility was an ace up his sleeve. Then the threat to the Hufflepuff dunderhead, made it clear that nobody would be forgiven.

Severus Snape was many things, but he was honour bound to acknowledge such a masterclass in his House' traits, even if the tutor was Potter, which he did by raising his goblet to the brat. Even in his imprisoned state, he'd to do so.

Harry gave Snape the thinnest of smiles and nodded. It was a pity that old Snivellus was an enemy too. He then calmly sat down and resumed his meal, letting the stares and the whispers wash over him. He turned towards the Head table as he chewed and had to swallow a snort of laughter as he saw the Headmaster.

" **Mr. Potter,** " Dumbledore said grandly, " **do you even realise what you have done? How dare you endanger the life of another student? You have almost murdered the Heir of a Noble House!** "

Harry looked at Dumbledore with the most unnerving glare, one that reeked of hatred, which caused Dumbledore to flinch. Flaring his magic (a nifty trick that Cassiopeia had taught him) so that people moved away, he continued in the same harsh, slow, loud, sibilant whisper. " **Headmaster Dumbledore, I am totally within my rights to call exactly what I want in repayment for risking my own life. Should Mr. Malfoy pass on to the next Great Adventure, it will be his and his family's fault for supporting Voldemort and his ideals. You had the chance to stop these imbeciles from becoming the sort of blood-snob cretins that they are. It is your responsibility to instil the values of equality in them if their parents are of poor values, as Mr. Malfoy's father obviously is. It's just one step from here to becoming a murderer- a Death Eater. Should he die, it'll lie on the consciences of his parents, his Head of House for not disciplining him when he should have, yours for letting such behaviour run rampant, and on that of every person in this bigoted world that allowed such bigotry to thrive. It doesn't and it won't lie on my heart. He'll be just another death to me. You'll find soon, that I neither forget, nor forgive. Let me put it this way, Headmaster. If he dies, I'll rejoice, and legally so. You're culpable for it of course, for you have been remiss in your duties. And by making him even watch his thoughts haven't I set him on the path to, as you always like to say, 'redemption'?"**

Dumbledore actually cringed and flinched at that. It made Harry smirk. It was nice to cause Dumbledore a lot of trouble.

 **"I say this as an ultimatum to everyone in this hall. Call anyone a mud-blood, discriminate in anyway racially, and I'll take it as a slur on the memory of my mother. You won't like the consequences. If you find it in yourself to defend his actions now, it'll only lead me to infer that you're a pureblood bigot too. The time has come for you, Headmaster, to decide where you stand. I have learnt that forgiveness is a sin, when extended to undeserving people. Right now, including the self-proclaimed 'Leader of the Light', nobody deserves my forgiveness. Those, whom I'd have forgiven, didn't need to ask for forgiveness, to start with. Those who need to be forgiven will have to earn it the hard way. That's all I've to say.** "

Albus Dumbledore prided himself in being a master at forcing situations to make the whole sequence of incidents go his way. He still couldn't get his head around the fact that he had been overruled, beaten, out-argued and put in a terrible fix over the course of a few hours several times over. That the he owed a Life Debt to the same person was an added affront. All he could say was "I see" in the most condescending tone he could muster. Dumbledore stood at the Head Table pointlessly, and seeing as no one paid him the slightest attention, sat down with a huff. "What was that?" he murmured to himself.

Beside him, little Professor Flitwick smirked. "That, Albus, is what you get when you cross the son of James Potter and the extremely vindictive Lily Potter."

"Indeed," agreed McGonagall. "Bless his little Slytherin heart."

Harry caught a sight of Hermione's narrowed eyes, and her expression that clearly said, "You're going to explain that!" and gulped. There was no escaping the girl.

* * *

When the students all retreated to their common rooms, Hermione and Fred and George cornered him. Harry had been expecting that, but wasn't particularly enthusiastic about answering Ron, who joined them too. He started the proceedings. "That was bloody brilliant!"

"I was merely behaving in the way I would have behaved if the Sorting Hat had had its way, Ron," Harry said in a neutral tone.

Hermione took over the interrogation. "Just what do you mean by that?"

"That was my Slytherin side. I needed to protect you all from the fallout of the destruction of the entire Malfoy family, didn't I? What better way to thumb my nose at the bigots than using the tenets of magic that they uphold?"

"You've a Slytherin side?" Ron asked with mounting horror.

"The Hat thought so. I didn't believe you when you said the Slytherins were all bad. Malfoy was sorted before me. If he hadn't been, I'd have loved to be in Slytherin. Then, I'd have constantly driven in the fact that my mum was muggleborn. I would've outsmarted and out-snobbed everyone. In a way, I'd have had Voldemort as a role model." That elicited horrified gasps. "Oh, not that way, you fools! He's a proper halfblood, he has a muggle father. It'd be amusing to make those snobs bow to me, just for the lark, and then destroy them by showing them that their blood purity ideals were stupid. No person is more lost than the one who has lost the anchor of long-held beliefs. That'd be a monumental prank. Uppity halfblood showing those purebloods up and all that guff."

Ron and Hermione both baulked at the picture Harry was painting. Fred and George though, had absolutely no problems with that. This was something right up their alley, but with far more finesse than they could have thought of. They simply burst into peals of raucous, rib-cracking laughter.

"Dear Harrykins!"

"Killer of Basilisks-"

"Snake in lion's hide-"

"Prankster extraordinaire-"

"We are not worthy!" they said together with a deep bow.

Hermione had, meanwhile, deeper problems. "Harry? Are you going to call my debt too?"

Harry rubbed his temples in irritation. He couldn't understand her slight distrust. "Do you want me to? You have two Life Debts owed to me, actually. Ron," he said turning to the redhead, a hint of chiselled steel in his voice, "you won't like this next part, but I have to tell things as they are."

"Ok?" came the unsure reply.

"Last year, on Halloween, Ron bullied you badly. You went into the bathroom and were nearly killed by the troll. Accepted, Ron did knock that thing out with its own club, but he brought about the situation. That cancelled out any debt to him. As for me, I was not a direct party to what he said, and I also remonstrated with him. In effect, when I came barrelling in to help you, there is a chance that your magic may recognise any debt to me, if it does exist. The second is regarding the Basilisk. Now, I ask you again. Do you want me to call the debts due? Do you trust me so little to think that I'd take advantage of you that way?"

Hermione had the decency to look ashamed. "It's not that Harry. You just went and put down both Dumbledore and Malfoy. I can't get my head around that..."

"And pray tell me, what did I achieve through that? Malfoy can't harass you anymore. Malfoy's father, who will go join Moldyshorts the moment he returns, is now toothless if he wants his son alive. The child-murdering fiend will be dead soon, and will take many of his peers down with him. The corruption that the Ministry is rife with will be exposed by a person directly involved in it. Have I participated in any heinous and gruesome villainy?" Harry's anger made Hermione feel very small, especially given the fact that his magic was flaring, making him look very... enticing. **_Where did that come from?_** Hermione groused internally.

Seeing her non-answer, Harry lost his temper. "What's your middle name?"

"What?"

"What's your middle name?"

"Jean..."

"I, Hadrian James Potter, call upon Magic herself to adjudicate the two claims of Life Debts owed to me by Hermione Jean Granger. For the debt owed to me from the 31st of October 1991, I bid you to not blindly follow authority. You will learn to question anything by even those you respect and trust if it doesn't feel right to you. If the answers are not obtained or you feel that something is amiss, you will, try and find the reasons for the actions, under the conditions that you do not risk your life in the process.

Further with regards to your Debt owed to me for the slaying of the Basilisk, you will in due course of time, learn all methods of magical self-protection. You will learn charms and spells to prevent any sort of contamination by personality, mood or choice altering substances, and magical compulsions of the mental or physical nature. Moreover, if there is even the slightest inkling of Voldemort rising again corporeally, that is if he gains his own body, you will, with your parents, leave Europe, with your memories of Britain modified. So I claim, so shall you accept." This time, amazingly, three strands of light joined the two after the flash of light, before dissipating in the glow that surrounded them. He purposely did not add the part decreeing the forfeiture of her life and magic.

When Hermione could do more than just nod and gape, she immediately started in on her rant of protest. "You can't do that to me! Why will I leave you if Voldemort returns? I refuse to accept that..." She was cut off by Harry stalking off. She turned angrily towards the three Weasleys. "He can't do that to me! That's simply not right! Ronald! You are going to help me convince him, aren't you?"

The three brothers had looked upon the extremely angry witch with identical sombre expressions. Fred was unnaturally serious as he replied. "Hermione, there is nothing to convince. Harry worded the oath in such a way that you'd always react to it just as he wants you to. He was undoubtedly worrying for your protection. Why did you bite his head off about calling Draco's debt due anyway? He was trying to protect us all, as he reasoned out so well. It showed extreme distrust in Harry to behave the way you did. If I were you, I wouldn't expect him to speak to me for a few days at least. You hurt him badly. And you are forgetting that he was bitten by a basilisk. He might be feeling the effects after all..." as he said that, Fred's eyes widened. The twins rushed up the 2nd year dormitories and stunned and then levitated Harry to the hospital wing, leaving an oblivious Ron and a stricken Hermione in their wake.

* * *

Later that night, Harry called out to Cassiopeia as he dreamt. She, soon enough, invaded his dreams.

 _"_ _So, how was my improvisation?"_

 _"_ _It was a clever use of the situation, I must say. You did lose the chance to bring out Pettigrew's deeds out in the open, me thinks, my boy", she replied._

 _"_ _Au contraire, Madame Reaper, it wasn't the right time. This won't stay quiet for too long. If Pettigrew was named, it would give him a chance to escape before Sirius escapes from Azkaban. Right now, I can't prove that the idiot's rat is Pettigrew without making allusions to some supernaturally gained knowledge. I am going to plant the seed in Mr. Weasley's mind to go to Egypt. Basilisk victim money! The mind healer thing can be done later. So, please manage the conditions for the raffle win, if things don't go as I need them to. Heaven knows they need those thousand galleons anyway."_

 _"_ _You rely on me too much. It was kneejerk. Are you ready for tomorrow? I have nudged the golden duck for his tears."_

 _"_ _Yes, I am. Thank you. I won't fail you Granny Min!"_

 _"_ _You are a cheeky little bugger!"_

 _"_ _Mind your language, lady!"_

 _"_ _Sleep now. You will be out for a day after the Horcrux removal tomorrow. Be prepared for Hermione's anger."_

 _"_ _Oh no," groaned Harry. The sound of his quailing courage made Cassiopeia laugh as she went away._

 _"_ _Oi, Madame Reaper! Don't go! How do I handle that woman? Tell me Cassiopeia! Where are you going? Please, give me some hints. Please oh merciful Madame Reaper! Your lowly, unworthy client begs for help!"_

 _Cassiopeia's voice sounded distant as she said, "That is one situation that you have to dig yourself out of young Harry!"_

* * *

Harry woke up the next day, groggily trying to take in his surroundings. He was pretty sure that he had passed out on his bed, but somehow, he had ended up on his bed in the hospital wing. He groaned uneasily, before realising that the splitting headache and the terrible ache in his arm where he'd been bitten were gone. To say that Madam Pomfrey was miffed that he didn't seek immediate treatment was an understatement. Apparently the twins had brought him in. They were mostly good blokes. She made him stay until lunch time, when finally Harry escaped.

* * *

As they all assembled in Dumbledore's office the later that day, Harry decided that allowing anyone to raise any objections would be detrimental to Cassiopeia's plan. She had told him that the wielder of the Sword could ask it to change forms to suit the need of the time. Turning the sword into a short knife with an ornate hilt, he gazed at all the assembled people in turn before turning to Dumbledore.

"Professor yesterday, I said that I had something to tell you and to show you all. I know that you read people's minds. Is there a way for you to show everyone my memory?" Harry knew he was goading Dumbledore about knowledge that he knew the old man would keep far too close to his chest. Predictably, Dumbledore's eyes widened at the accusation which, though true, he was protected from, only by virtue of his positions.

"Yes. Let me take the memory from you. Just bring that memory to the front. Visualise it completely. I'll do the rest." He was speaking loudly and fast, a sure sign of nervousness. The mention of Legillimency had put him slightly off-balance. He placed the tip of his wand to Harry's head and drew the memory that Cassiopeia had created for this very purpose. He transferred the memory to the pensieve.

"Now, firstly, I want an Unbreakable Vow from Hagrid that he will never drink again. He has a bad tendency of drinking and losing secrets. I am sorry Hagrid, but this really is important." Harry's chagrined and pleading look had Hagrid complying immediately, with Mr. Weasley as the bonder.

"Before you all see the memory, there are some things to be told. Headmaster, last night, some things were discussed between me and the spirit of Tom Riddle. He said he was a Horse-curse or Horcrux or something like that and that he intended to make five more of those. It was at this juncture that my scar called out to him and tried to take control of me, convincing me that it was another of those things, another spirit of Riddle. It called him a brother. This one is embedded into me. I believe you knew this. That I had to find that I am responsible for the continued existence of my mortal enemy from said enemy is something I consider the height of betrayal. I am sorry that you have to witness this. But I will not allow my existence be linked to Voldemort's ever again. Can't let that happen, can I? If I cease to live as an outcome of my actions, I will die knowing that I played a part in his final death. He will go after my family again. I will not allow my existence to allow him that chance. Goodbye, Hermione. He named you, as you'll see. I Owled my last will to Gringotts this morning, should I die now. You get everything. It also emancipates you and extricates you from unscrupulous Magical Guardians."

Everyone present felt blood drain from their faces as they heard what Harry had to say, none more so than Dumbledore. Before anyone could react, however, Harry struck his scar deep with the Knife of Gryffindor with a mental call to Cassiopeia. Harry's loud scream and a much more terrifying scream from the scar individually rent the air. As Cassiopeia had predicted, the dam holding in his power, the binding on his magical core broke with sheer unrestrained force, shattering most things in the office and almost all the panes that lined the castle's windows even as the ancient structure itself seemed to shudder. A black gunk oozed out of Harry's scar, continually pushed out by the throbbing in his head before blood finally started flowing out of the scar, red and unadulterated.

As he lay convulsing on the floor, twitching uncontrollably, Hermione, Hagrid and Minerva held on to him. On cue, Fawkes swooped down and laid a patch of tears upon the wound. As it healed, the pain coursing through Harry's head reduced. While his breathing was ragged and coming in short bursts, he was unable to stop the scream that escaped his throat. Scooping him into his arms gently, Hagrid rushed to the infirmary. Laying him gently on the bed that he often occupied, he inched away, leaving the boy to Madam Pomfrey's mercy. Soon, Harry passed out and knew no more.

* * *

 _"_ _Hello there, young Harry!" Cassiopeia's voice rang out almost as a taunt._

 _"_ _Oh God!" Harry moaned. "Please don't tell me I bollixed it up again? Did I snuff it?"_

 _"_ _No, you didn't you prat. You were knocked out by the pain. The theatrics were quite good. And by good, I mean bad, poor and any other similar adjectives. It is just as well that you were never meant to be an actor. I think you are going to face four very, very, irate witches when you deign to rejoin the world of the living."_

 _"_ _You don't have to insult me, you know. And which four witches? Hey that was something, which witches or witch whiches?"_

 _"_ _Lord, save me! Please cut down on those travesties you call jokes. As a Marauder spawn, much better was expected."_

 _"_ _Yeah, sure; are you always that cheerful? Never mind, to business, my Reaper. What happens now? Do I remain a Parselmouth?"_

 _"_ _You originally could communicate with all living beings, snakes being just one kind of the many. Of course you can keep speaking Parseltongue."_

 _"_ _Good. I mean to make some money off that Basilisk, you know. Now: the big question. You never explained what soul-mates are. You just said Hermione would never be able to love anyone ever. What does the whole concept of soul mates entail?"_

 _"_ _Good. I thought you'd never ask. 'Soul mates' essentially means that your magic completes that of the other. That was 'the power he knows not'. Old man Whiskers was partially correct. It was love and family magic. More specifically, the power is pure love and family magic. Neither of you can love any other person as you can love each other- beyond that, nothing. But that sort of powerful love can spawn immense hatred for the one who'd hurt the one you love. There will be nothing like you would have mated Patroni, or being able to communicate mentally or anything like that. Probabilistically speaking, your union will have a chance of being successful greater than 99.9%. That is all there is. There is a reason why the bond is often sealed by a kiss. Let me give you the most morbid example possible. Where does a Dementor suck the soul from?"_

 _"_ _The victims' mouths- Oh! I get it. You have given me a very terrible mental image of two people kissing; each of them acting as both the Dementor and the victim. I wish you could have spared me that."_

 _"_ _Yes, sure. I suppose that is very funny. A word of caution, don't rush headlong into a bond with Hermione, it may seem abrupt and cause undue suspicion. More importantly, it will be recorded as a magically binding marriage, if things progress beyond a kiss, to the stage where you go... in slang terminology...all the way. I think you'd like to wait. At the same time however, you will have the protections of the bond and realisation on the part of you both that you truly love only each other, once you have that first kiss. Now, I must talk to you about the soul bit removal. Remember, you will be very unstable for a couple of days magically. You will have several repressed powers inherent to you getting awakened simultaneously. They will all jostle for your brain to accommodate them. This unconscious phase will help them settle. Be very careful though. I have ensured that the rat is safe and that Sirius is already entertaining thoughts of escape. Be careful child. I can't stress that enough. Rest well, now."_

 _"_ _You do know that you abruptly change subjects all the time, don't you?"_

 _"_ _Of course I do. I can't meet you all the time. After today I only have fortnightly reviews of your case. I try to cram as much as I mean to tell you in each meeting."_

 _"_ _That leaves me feeling as if I have to study all seven years worth for the NEWTs within a week."_

 _"_ _That's effectively the situation that you_ _ **are**_ _in. I can't stay for long now. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!"_

 _"_ _I have to ask you this. How much and to whom can I reveal all this? I am just not too good at keeping secrets."_

 _"_ _You can choose any five people. Choose wisely. Tell them what little you can reveal without touching upon that subject. You can tell only one person about the future as it happened. Either that or you will have to wait till you have changed far too much for the previous timeline to have any meaning at all. Choose the five very wisely boy. You have my best wishes. Oh my, not much time left! Now, SCRAM!"_

 _"You know that these stipulations are very illogical, don't you?"_

 _"They may be. It doesn't matter. By divine prerogative I can make the rules as I go along. Now go!"_


	3. Chapter 3

**By the Sickbed**

Minerva McGonagall sat by her student's bedside in the hospital wing, having dosed herself on calming draughts and that was after needing something very, _very_ strong to get her head around the fact that Horcruxes existed. That was before the realisation that the young boy of barely thirteen had lived with one embedded into his head for twelve years. She was very forcefully reminded of the conversation she had had with Dumbledore the night they left the baby with those muggle brutes. She more than ever rued the day she started trusting Dumbledore's judgement blindly. It had cost the little boy his childhood. It had cost her twelve years with a child that was as close to being her own grandson as would ever be possible. She remembered asking Dumbledore about that scar as if the incident had happened only the day before.

 _Under a tuft of jet-black hair over his forehead they could see a curiously shaped cut, like a bolt of lightning._

 _"_ _Is that where- ?" whispered Professor McGonagall._

 _"_ _Yes," said Dumbledore. "He'll have that scar forever."_

 _"_ _Couldn't you do something about it, Dumbledore?"_

 _"_ _Even if I could, I wouldn't. Scars can come in handy_." The last part gave her shivers. " ** _Even if I could, I wouldn't."_** Dumbledore meant for the lad to die!

The whole incident had led to an epiphany. Due to her blind trust in a secretive person like Dumbledore, she had failed her godson. She had failed all that was left to her in the world that could be called her family. Most importantly she had failed herself. She once was proud to be known as a formidable witch. What had that come to? In a word: nothing.

She had been living a life where she had long left behind the complete use of her mental faculties, both as a teacher and in her personal life. She had forgotten to exist beyond Hogwarts and beyond Dumbledore's words. He may have once been a great man, may even be great now, she thought, but he had lost her trust; just as he had lost Harry's trust. He had not trusted her with the secret that was vital to her work as a member of his Order. That had led her to resign that very day after admitting Harry to the infirmary. Her two-hour long tirade and rant against and at the Headmaster had failed to calm her sufficiently.

Nothing would do that now. Nothing would calm her, except- as she would realise a day later- the little green-eyed boy, currently seeming to be on his death bed, calling her 'Granny Min'.

* * *

Molly Weasley sat by her daughter's bedside, each of them equally angry. So, You-Know-Who hadn't left the mortal world. Her daughter had just been freed from nearly nine months of possession by the Dark Lord's own soul piece. It had made her attack students in the school by controlling a basilisk. The venerable, highly respected Headmaster, however, had done nothing whatsoever to warn the general public of this danger. The danger that her daughter was in had passed, at least for the time being.

No, what had really riled her up was the fact that the boy that she was coming to look at more and more as a son was left to his own devices with nothing being done to help him with one of those... _things_ lodged into that famous scar. Twelve years had passed after that fateful night. Why hadn't the great Albus Dumbledore taken any measures to help the child who had saved them all? Wasn't at least that what they owed him?

She shuddered as she remembered the actions of the boy, a bit younger than Ronald. He was willing to sacrifice himself to prevent the resurrection of a Dark Lord. A wee child was what everyone saw him as, yet he had taken a stand against the darkness four times in his young life. What more could they ask of him?

* * *

Ginny was terrified. Since the time her parents had told her the story of the boy-who-lived, it had been the constant around which her life had revolved. She had made a mistake of trusting Tom and a diary. She was almost ready to languish in self-pity for ever coming into the possession of that accursed diary. Now, her mother told her, her hero had lived with a similar thing embedded into his person, into that scar that defined him. She felt strangely inadequate. She had been gullible enough to be possessed by an external source of darkness. **_He_** had lived with that darkness for twelve years, yet hadn't succumbed to it. How could she ever be good enough for him? He had sworn to protect her as a brother.

"A brother?" she spat mentally. It hurt her deeply that he called himself her brother. She would take what she could get, if it meant being at least a friend first- but a little sister? No. Never would she accept that. She wouldn't let up the hope she had harboured since she was seven. He could be convinced to think of her as something else. She would be having words with him for his foolish but brave and self-sacrificing actions, she thought with a stern giggle. She shuddered to think of a world without him in it. She was sure that she herself would most likely be dead. If he died, how was she to marry?

* * *

Hermione Granger was in a situation that she had never felt she would ever be in. She was bordering catatonia. She was currently bereft of coherent thoughts to a very large extent. She remembered her two months of petrifaction. In that period of time, Harry had made a conscious effort to keep her company, often even coming alone. For a girl with a childhood deprived of real friends, such a gesture meant a lot to her. She hadn't conveyed her relief and gratitude to him for helping to keep her sane. She remembered the time before Harry had become her friend. Even magic, as inviting and enchanting as it was, wasn't enough to raise her sagging spirits.

But after that first Halloween at Hogwarts, she had never been alone in any sense of the word. Her two friends (though now that she tried to remember everything, she remembered Harry being a friend and Ron sniping at her every now and then) had always been with her, and the three had really stuck together. Now that she tried to imagine life without them, particularly given the situation, without Harry, it was something that seemed unbearable to her. Now that she thought of it, she was sure that Ron was her friend only because Harry was. Harry was the one who had dragged Ron to save her from the troll. He was the one making sure that even her petrified self wasn't alone.

He was also the one intent on leaving her to prevent a Dark Lord's return.

That would never sit well with her. That he was alive was more due to Fawkes' intervention than anything else. Then there was the fact that Dumbledore knew about this. Had he been rearing Harry only with the intention of having him killed when the time was right? How Lucius Malfoy was even allowed to curse a student, never mind which curse he used, she would never know. There were too many questions and she had no answers. She had seen the memory, and it explicitly stated "'mudbloods' like that girlfriend of yours that Ginny mentioned." She had seen Harry's scar call out to Riddle, almost killing Harry with the pain. She knew what it meant. If she were in danger because of him, Harry would do exactly what he had done. If Harry made it through this ordeal, she was going to slap some sense into him, physically, if needed. In her worry, the thought of his will never crossed her mind.

She looked over to Ron whose head hung back across the back of his chair, mouth open slightly as he slept. He had asked a very pertinent question. Who had befriended them, Harry or Voldemort? Who was left in that body now? Mr. Weasley had given some very persuasive arguments which favoured Harry as the resounding answer to both questions. For one, Voldemort would never give up the chance to 'cleanse' the school. Harry had two years to do so. Then again, Fawkes, a Phoenix had intervened and saved Harry from the basilisk venom that had surely impregnated the Goblin-made sword. Phoenixes always aided those considered pure of heart. That was one way that no one would ever describe Voldemort. Hermione was in a tizzy. She was angry. But mostly, she was worried. She wanted her best friend back.

* * *

Dumbledore, having made a brief announcement that Harry and Ron had got special awards for services to the school and that the pair had helped resolve the situation to Madame Bones' satisfaction returned to his office to face an angry father and a furious half-giant.

The usually mild-mannered and calm Arthur Weasley was beside himself with anger. "You know Dumbledore, when people trust, and almost deify an individual it is a sure sign of oncoming fall from grace. You kept that boy away from our world among abusive relatives. I grilled my sons and they told me about the prison of a room in which they had locked up the boy. How is it that the saviour of our world was imprisoned by muggles while scum like Lucius Malfoy roamed free while you were the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot?"

"Arthur, I can understand your anger..."

"No yeh can' u'derstan' his anger, Dumbledore", roared Hagrid. "'arry lived with a piece o' you-know-who inside him fer twelve years. Yeh are a great wizard, aren' yeh? Self-proclaimed leader o' the ligh' an' all? Why din' yeh spend some time on that problem? Did yeh wan' 'arry to get killed in the end? I 'ave always respected yeh, Dumbledore, but what yeh did ta the boy was jus' as bad as You-know-who!"

To say that Dumbledore was aghast was an understatement. His staunchest, unquestioning supporter was veering towards estrangement. He could only hope Harry made it through this ordeal. At least, he thought, Fawkes proved that it would really be Harry that returned and not Tom.

Arthur wasn't done yet however. "Dumbledore, you talk so much about equality between magical races and also between the native magic of countries across the world. Your position as the Supreme Mugwump meant that you had many contacts. Was it so impossibly difficult to spare a thought for Harry? Your own mental faculties and knowledge could have been expanded had you tried. You just chose what was easy over what was right. I am not sure how much I can trust you right now, Dumbledore. You have behaved in a really reprehensible manner as far as Harry is concerned. He has saved our world twice already from the resurrection of You-Know-Who. Each time the incident has occurred at the school **you** run. Each time it is **your** skin that he has saved. **You** owe him more than anyone else, and each of us owes him more than can be ever repaid. I still find it hard to believe there would be one day when I distrusted Albus Dumbledore. It is upon me, sadly."

"Yeh'll be sendin' 'im off ter the Dursleys, won' yeh? They actively 'ate 'im there." Hagrid's growl was almost threatening.

"Yes. Those are blood wards on Privet Drive that need to be recharged each year. He has to live there for at least four weeks. They will continue Lily's protection till he comes of age; or at least, until he considers the place home." Dumbledore knew that this argument was not going to hold much water with the two men. Sure enough, they snorted mirthlessly.

"Then those wards most probably never really worked, Albus. I sincerely doubt that any of the concerned parties actually consider that place his home."

"They do. I have a monitoring charm for the wards. I am always updated if changes in the wards occur."

"Suit yerself, Dumbledore. If they 'urt 'arry, they will 'ave me to answer to."

It was then that Dumbledore knew he had lost the battle.


	4. Chapter 4

**Facing them again**

A dull cross between a moan and a groan alerted the Hogwarts Healer that her most persistent patient was returning to consciousness. Hurrying over to him, she cast a series of spells intended for diagnosis. Saying that the results stunned her was a massive understatement. His power readings, once constrained to moderately high levels were now dangerously and speedily rising. The suddenness of it all scared her. If the power levels did not settle down soon, there was a chance of him dying, she feared. Quickly conjuring her Patronus, she sent a message to all the others. Just as she did so, the rising levels started to reach a plateau. They soon came rushing into the ward, worrying about what or rather who they'd meet in there. They were met by a smiling matron overseeing her patient who had just turned over in his sleep with a most angelic expression on his face.

"Albus, the scar, it's gone!" Her exclamation drew the attention of the old man to the fringe which normally hid the scar. He was about to reach out to brush it away to confirm it for himself when Madam Pomfrey stopped him. "Wait. Tell me this first. Who was Harry most comfortable with before he got the scar? I think it would be best for that person to be the first that he encounters when I wake him."

Moving up to the bedside, Minerva quietly said, "That would be me." She sat down in a chair beside the bed and caressed the fringe off Harry's forehead, causing him to wake and blink about blearily and owlishly. He looked up to the hand caressing his head, and marvelling at how well he could see without his glasses, he again blinked at Minerva. "Granny Min?" he rasped out. "What happened?"

The transfiguration mistress' breath caught in her throat as she was called something that she had last heard more than a decade ago. Then it had been a babyish babble that sounded more akin to "Graee Mi", but the innocence behind the voice was intact. With tearing eyes, she engulfed the boy in a tight hug till he finally wheezed, "Granny Min... air... need to breathe!"

A throaty chuckle brought the woman back to her senses. It had been years and years before she had allowed her emotions to flow so freely, but she was a human too, and James and then Harry always managed to bring out her more maternal side. Relinquishing her grasp on the boy, she sat back, rearranging her features into her normal no nonsense, stern visage. "Mr. Potter, you will be explaining your actions to us all. What drove you to think you should use the Sword of Gryffindor upon yourself? It was foolish of you, and I am sorely tempted to give you detention till term ends."

As Cassiopeia had forewarned, too many memories, many hidden talents and Harry's real nature were all going to be unlocked once he was divested of the Horcrux. Looking at her, grinning cheekily, he countered, "Aww, come now, Granny Min. You know you aren't angry at your favourite grandson, don't you? And I don't think Madam Pomfrey will agree heartily to your plan to put me in detention; she likes to keep me here for the longest time always!" he added with a roguish wink.

This caused the poor Healer to blush in mortification, while Minerva sighed and said, shaking her head, "Alas, freedom from that vile thing has unlocked his inner James! Ms. Granger, you better be on your toes now, I can already foresee him gathering a merry band of his own and attempting to serenade the cleverest witch of his generation, just as every Potter in known history has done!" This time, it was Hermione who blushed red while Harry did a very accurate imitation of a goldfish as everyone else laughed. He also noted with a glance, that while Ron was totally unperturbed by this pronouncement and was teasing Hermione with a nudge by his elbow, Ginny and Molly didn't seem particularly happy.

It was at this point that Dumbledore interjected. "Harry, my boy, how are you feeling?"

Looking at the old man with wary eyes, something which was noticed instantly, he replied, "I am fine Headmaster. Just a little bit sore with a slight headache to boot, but otherwise I am much better than I have ever felt." The formal, impersonal tone of speech wasn't lost on anybody.

Making an attempt at his grandfatherly persona, the Headmaster tried for a little levity. "No Grampa 'Bus for me?" he asked with twinkling eyes.

Looking the old man squarely in the eyes, his jaw set firm in a manner eerily reminiscent of his father, he replied in a plain, inflectionless voice, "No, Professor. I truly do not remember ever calling you that. More importantly, to my parents, you were always Headmaster or Professor Dumbledore. Unlike Granny Min who was Aunt Min for them, there is no reason to show you any sort of familiarity. Even if that were the case, I wouldn't call you Grampa 'Bus any longer. My trust is not easily gained Professor. You took care of that by placing me with the Dursleys. It is the rarest gift I can bestow on others. It is easily lost. And it is never regained. I do not trust you."

Harry's words were much more painful to Dumbledore than a thorough skewering by the now Basilisk-venom impregnated Sword of Gryffindor could ever have been. Lily and James were outstanding students and had borne the child of prophecy, the child that he had decided to protect and help against Voldemort. Yet, he couldn't find any fault with any of the accusations that Arthur, Hagrid and Harry had levelled against him. That Harry could no longer trust him was a very serious blow to his plans. He was shaken out of his reverie by laughter and shook himself to find his companions laughing their heads off, pointing at the bed which Harry occupied. Turning to look at the boy, he had the shock of his life. Staring up at him with a very crooked grin and twinkling blue eyes was Dumbledore's own face. His shock must have permeated onto his visage, for suddenly the face broke out, chortling, and exclaimed, "Just look at your face, Professor! I was joking!" Promptly, Harry transformed back to his original face, unable to control his laughter.

Dumbledore heaved a sigh of relief. So it was all just an elaborate prank. But this was new information. "I didn't know you were a metamorphmagus Harry?"

"No sir. I didn't either. I just wanted to prank you a little and just wished to copy your face. I am sorry if I overstepped my limits." Harry wasn't a metamorphmagus, but was channelling his magic using the technique Cassiopeia had taught him. The difference was the physical stability of the individual. Harry was no metamorphmagus, and therefore, even if his emotions got the better of him or changed abruptly, his body would not react. That was the real reason for Tonks' clumsiness. She always had to contend with a shifting body, so that as she walked, she would often suddenly encounter changes. The ability was passed on to her through her lineage as a Black, but most other metamorphmagi learnt Occlumency early on to rein in their emotions. Nymphadora Tonks was not an accomplished Occlumens.

"Oh, don't you worry dear boy. You must have temporarily lost control of your magic. It must be the effect of the binding on your core being released from the bindings..." Instantly Dumbledore knew that he had walked into a trap.

Molly Weasley made full use of her enormous vocal power and screeched, "DUMBLEDORE! WHAT IS THIS THAT I HEAR ABOUT YOU BINDING HARRY'S CORE? DO YOU BLOODY KNOW HOW DANGEROUS THIS IS? WHY WOULD YOU DO IT? THE POOR BOY COULD HAVE BEEN KILLED! DO YOU MEAN TO SAY THAT HE KILLED A BASILISK, BATTLED YOU-KNOW-WHO LAST YEAR, HAS BEEN LEARNING AT HOGWARTS ALL WITH HIS MAGIC BOUND? DON'T YOU KNOW THAT IT AFFECTS THE MENTAL CAPACITIES OF THE PERSON ADVERSELY?"

"Molly, it was necessary lest Voldemort take control of Harry and his enormous, prodigious magical power!" Dumbledore walked into the next trap with eyes wide open.

"SO YOU KNEW!" This time it was Hermione, who till then had been very quiet, who decided to take the Headmaster to task. "YOU KNEW THAT HARRY HAD A PIECE OF VOLDEMORT WITHIN HIM! I SUPPOSE ENDING THE POTTER LINE FOR THE WIZARDING WORLD WAS A FAIR EXCHANGE IN YOUR EYES? YOU DID WANT HIM DEAD IN THE END! YOU ARE A DARK LORD DUMBLEDORE, JUST AS DARK AS VOLDEMORT!" She then realised what she had called her Headmaster, and promptly burrowed into Harry's side, sobbing her eyes out.

"It's all right 'Mione. I am sure the Professor was doing all he could for **_the_** **_Greater Good!_** " The deliberate emphasis on the phrase was caught by the Headmaster and his Deputy immediately.

"What do you mean Harry?" asked Minerva sharply. "Where did you hear this phrase?"

"What phrase?" Harry asked innocently.

"'The Greater Good'?"

"Isn't that what Professor Dumbledore essentially teaches? He means to get us to look for the big picture, where small sacrifices mean nothing to the overall scheme of things other than as a means to some end? "Do what's right and not what's easy" is his message. Isn't that the same thing? For the Greater Good of the magical world, he found my sacrifice necessary. It's just that I found the right method to do it not the easy one. It just means that I live to fight again, doesn't it?" Making a show of confusion at the anger on everyone's face, he asked, "What's wrong?"

Deciding that too many of his secrets were being made public, the old man intervened, "Nothing's wrong, Harry. You just exposed my plans as being inconsiderate to those that work for its success. They lack the human touch, and so, often end up as hollow successes. I must thank you for that. I bid you all a good day." He then hurried out of the ward.

They only heard Arthur Weasley mutter, "It's not over, old fool," under his breath once the Headmaster was out of earshot.

Soon, it was time for Mr. and Mrs. Weasley to leave and for Professor McGonagall to return to her duties. As they left, they berated Harry half-heartedly for being so impulsive and also for taking such a step without thinking of the consequences. The Professor also gave Ron, Hermione and Ginny permission to stay in the Hospital wing. This provided the sternest test for Harry yet. Getting rid of two Horcruxes, destroying Lucius Malfoy and even sullying Dumbledore's invincibility a little bit all seemed a piece of cake compared to facing Ron and Ginny with the knowledge of what they had done to him and Hermione, and Hermione with the knowledge of what she was to him. Had things progressed further, it would have been a clear-cut violation of their physical selves by the Weasley siblings. It was taking a lot of effort to keep his face neutral and tired. His core strengthening meant that he was quickly losing his physical weakness. It was also then that he realised that he was seeing Dumbledore alive after over a year.

"Are you all going to just stare at me and fidget about?" he asked, more to start a conversation than anything else.

"It's not that Harry. It's just a lot to take in. I mean you are my best mate, you saved my," correcting himself at Harry's raised eyebrow, "sorry, _our_ sister, but the things after that, you having to snuff it and all, I can't understand it and I am a bit scared."

"If you are thinking that it was Voldemort that befriended you, let me tell you this. No, it wasn't him. We both know that I never knew about a part of him being in my scar till the night before last. You are my brother (he cringed mentally at this) and my first friend, mate. I was scared that Voldemort may use me to hurt you all. I couldn't let that happen, could I?"

Ron's expression lightened considerably. "No, of course you wouldn't. I am sorry. I just don't know what to make of this. It is beyond me really."

Harry held Ron's gaze for a few seconds trying to remember what Ron was like before the Triwizard Tournament. He had always been loud-mouthed. But for whatever reason, he had at least been honest in whatever he thought. When he behaved as a bigot, he was unflinchingly anti-Slytherin. He remembered the way he had tried to avenge Malfoy's insult of Hermione in the sec- no, this year, he corrected himself. It all came down to his self-esteem issues, and these issues had spawned his jealousy to a greater extent. It didn't provide any sort of worthy excuse for his behaviour, but this Ron hadn't done anything yet. "You know what Ron, forget it. We should not let such trifles come between us. I actually wanted to talk to you about something, a secret if you will. Actually I want to talk to each of you, individually." Narrowing her eyes at Harry, Hermione huffed and left with Ginny.

Still fidgeting a bit, Ron occupied a chair and cast a questioning glance at his friend. "I wanted to talk to you about the Quidditch team actually. Correct me if I am wrong, but I think you'd make a great Keeper." Ron stared at Harry open-mouthed, again. "Oi! Give me some response here!" Harry called out in mock indignation.

"Ye-yeah. Keeper. Yes I-I could play Keeper." Ron shook his head a bit as if to clear his head a bit.

"Yeah. So I was thinking, Oliver will now be in his seventh year, won't he? His last. So, I meant to go and talk to him about having a reserve slot. You can train under him for the next year, and when he leaves, you will be ready to take his place. I mean, I know you want to be captain and all, and I don't know how it will all play out. They generally make the most senior member of the team the captain. By the time we reach the sixth year, provided you get in, it will be Katie Bell, then me and then you. Katie will be encumbered by her NEWTs, and may not take up captaincy. I am the seeker, so during the game, I can hardly think about the team tactics. As Keeper, you will have the best view of things, and to be fair, you are a clever tactician. At least I think so by the way you play chess (that was another idiotic thing that he had been assuming, he inwardly mused). So you can make it to captaincy. What do you say?"

Ron blinked. He blinked again. Then an expression of pure, unadulterated happiness spread across his face, manifesting itself as a grin. "Brilliant. It's absolutely bloody brilliant."

"Remember, McGonagall has academic conditions. And secondly, she doesn't allow the same person to hold the Quidditch captaincy and the Prefect position or the Head Boy position..."

"That's alright. I am in."

"Brilliant. There's one more thing. I want your help with Neville. He is always scared for some reason. I think it is more that he lacks confidence. We have largely ignored him you know. Seamus and Dean always hang out together while you, me and Hermione are almost inseparable. He often ends up as a spare prick. You know when that thing got out of my scar it unlocked my memories, don't you? Well, our mothers were each other's godmothers. I feel bad about it you know. I think we should befriend him better. Will you help?"

"Blimey! You are more like brothers then, eh Harry? You won't want me then!" Ron's voice had risen a bit.

"Are you mental?" Harry asked, incredulity colouring his voice, though he couldn't try and think that Ron's accusation was mistaken. "We can never have too many friends Ron. You'll always be my first and best mate at Hogwarts. Just as Hermione is our best friend. I am just thinking of adding to our rather small list. Think of it as practice. You'll have to deal with six other team-mates when you become captain. Won't you have to be friendly with them all to get your points, tactics and thoughts across? Have you seen how Wood goes about it? He keeps hounding us, but he is also everybody's best Quidditch mate! You should observe his people skills too!"

Ron's face took a far away, contemplative expression. After a minute or two of silence, he exhaled deeply and said, "You are right. Just keeping to ourselves will be bloody selfish. We never did think about Neville. I agree."

"Thanks mate. I knew I could count on you," Harry said with a smile. "I best not keep you long. Would you mind terribly if I asked you to send Ginny in?"

"I'll do that. Get well mate." Ron slapped him lightly on the shoulder, humming slightly as he left, a vacant smile playing on his lips as he thought of all the formations he would have the chasers execute.

* * *

About a minute after Ron left, Ginny shyly came in through the door. Had Harry known what was running through her mind at that time, he would have been confined for a further few days for becoming violently sick. She was pretty much convinced that Harry had called her in to say that he was sorry that he had called her a sister and would ask her to be his girlfriend. Harry on the other hand was wondering how an eleven year-old could reach a level of obsession as she had. Gesturing towards a chair, Harry asked in as warm a voice as he could muster while talking to a girl who had instigated his best friend to betray him and had torn Hermione away from him, "How are you Ginny?"

Ginny was already taking deep breaths as she tried to fight away the blush spreading across her face, almost rendering it indistinguishable from her hair. At long last, she stammered out, "F-Fine. I... amfine," she ended.

Knowing that this would take a lot of work, Harry sighed. "Ginny about what I said back in the Chamber," Harry started apologetically and was amazed at the change as Ginny sat up straight with an expectant look on her face. "Did you think about it?"

"Yes," she said so quietly that Harry almost missed it.

"Well, then will you forgive me?"

This was going very much according to expectations, Ginny thought smugly. "Yes, Harry," she said in a sickeningly sweet manner that instantly reminded Harry of Dolores Umbridge for the second time in two days. Deciding to nip any ideas she may have harboured, and trying not to be sick at the idea of such an obsessed fan-girl, Harry conjured a bright smile upon his face in reply.

"Thanks Gin! You are the best little sister ever!" he said exuberantly and gave her a one-armed hug.

Instantly Ginny's demeanour changed and her shoulders slumped noticeably. Harry had to make an extreme effort to hide his smile. "What's the matter Gin? Are you at least a bit better now? Is anyone troubling you? You can tell me. You have five brothers to look out for you, I am telling you again. If anyone tries to hurt you now, they will answer to all of us."

"It-It's nothing Harry," she muttered dejectedly.

"No it's not. Have I hurt you in some way? At least talk to me now, ickle Gin-Gin!"

"Don't call me that," she said, her eyes flashing.

"So that's the matter. You are worried that I'll tease you too, aren't you? I won't do that Gin-Gin. I mean, I'll tease you, and when you grow up a little and boys start looking at you a bit too long, I'll give you a horrid time about that too. But I promise I won't tease you as much as Fred and George."

"YOU AREN'T MY BROTHER!" she shouted, finally at the end of her tether.

"You don't like me much, do you? Here I am, trying to talk and you keep driving me away. Alright then. I won't talk to you, if you mind that so much."

"NO! It's not that! No..." Realising that she had probably made matters worse, she huffed and ran out of the ward. Harry felt sincerely cold-hearted at the way he had behaved, but he was going to have to do that. He didn't feel particularly guilty. At least he didn't, until Ron barged in angrily, shouting, "What did you say to her?"

Harry had almost prepared himself for that, so assuming a suitably hurt expression, he told Ron everything that had occurred. "Why did she run away? What did I say that got her so mad at me, Ron?" he asked finally as Ron calmed down.

"I am not sure myself," Ron muttered frowning a bit. "I tell you, she is _mental_ , that one is."

"Well, she certainly drove me over the wall thinking I had done something wrong! Bloody scared me, she did!"

"There is that. I'll just go check on her. You want me to send in Hermione?"

"Sure, if it's not too much trouble."

* * *

It was a few minutes later that Hermione came to meet him, a neutral expression plastered across her face. She was the one that Harry looked forward to meeting the most while also fearing the same meeting the most. She lived up to that billing. She fixed Harry with a glare that would have killed the basilisk in a staring match and stood at the foot of the bed and crossed her arms across her chest. Harry opened his mouth to speak once and then twice before eventually thinking better of it. She showed no sign of relenting as he started squirming within a minute of being held under her glare. He also couldn't help but think that Hermione, in her resolute anger, looked decidedly cute. Finally, swallowing his nervousness, he asked her uncertainly, "Are you not going to say anything?"

"Do you want me to?"

"Yes. That would be nice."

"What do you want me to say?" Raising her voice to an irritating falsetto, she clasped her hands and cried, "Oh Harry, why did you do it? What do you think I would have felt?" Then she went back to glaring and demanded in a venomous hiss, "You want some empty platitudes for your actions?" Hermione's voice was rising with each word of her admonishment. By the end Harry was looking increasingly downcast, more like a kicked puppy. As his expression turned most piteous, he whined at her, "A simple why would have sufficed, you know."

Hermione's natural response to seeing Harry on the hospital bed was worry, and it was compounded by anger at the thought that Harry had attempted something very foolish- which was necessary in the long run- and at the idea that Dumbledore eventually wanted Harry dead and relief that Harry's action had destroyed that plan. The rigours of the past two days got to her, and she broke down. Sniffling slightly, she moved closer to Harry and perched herself onto the bed. "Well then, why? Why did you do whatever you did?"

Avoiding looking at her at all, he explained, "Hermione, I think you know why. But I'll spell it out for you. Firstly let me tell you that for the entire time that you were petrified, I missed you. I looked normal, but I couldn't really function. I don't know if you could understand it, but I came every evening to see you. I sometimes stayed overnight with _the_ cloak. People stopped calling me the Heir of Slytherin after you'd been attacked, but I'd rather be vilified and hated with you happy and hale and hearty. I sometimes nearly cried when I came here; Madame Pomfrey had to give me calming draughts twice."

To say that Hermione was touched was a massive understatement. She knew Harry had been a good friend since the Halloween of their first year. But this much emotion for her had only expressed by her parents who loved her unconditionally. Harry on the other hand was wondering how he had missed such an obvious sign of love. He had loved her since the second year. He just never realised it. He shrugged lightly, and continued, "When we found that paper in your hand, I was very angry. I wanted nothing more than to hurt this creature that had hurt my Herm... I mean had hurt you. Ginny being taken into the Chamber only prompted us to work faster. But I- I killed that Basilisk for you." He blushed as he remembered the slip as he almost uttered 'my Hermione'. He ducked his head, missing a similar blush creeping across Hermione's tear-streaked face. She was not going to let a complete explanation pass her by however.

"That doesn't explain why you stabbed your scar. You could have died then, do you know that? I was scared..." she trailed off in a small voice.

"You saw the memory, didn't you?"

"Yes, I did."

"Well then, you saw what happened down there regarding my scar. That diary possessed Ginny to attack you. She wasn't in control of her actions. What would have happened if my scar had taken control of my body? What if it had made me kill you? I couldn't lose you. The Sword of Gryffindor is goblin-made. Such items never rust, never degrade and absorb anything that strengthens them. The Sword absorbed the Basilisk's venom. I killed the diary-Riddle with the Basilisk fang. I didn't bring it with me, but I knew about the Sword of Gryffindor. So I just stabbed my scar before it could even think of hurting you. As for the dying thing, you know now that Professor Dumbledore wanted to ensure that I died before Voldemort could be killed for this very reason. If I had died, at least I'd have known that I had done my part in keeping you safe. I'd have missed you terribly, but you'd have been safe and happy." This last part was a lie, and Harry fully intended for her to never know that. He decided to bring that matter up during his next meeting with Cassiopeia. He was not however prepared for Hermione's reaction to his monologue. She slapped him across the face. Hard.

Gasping in shock, Harry clutched at his cheek as the pain caused his eyes to tear up. "What was that for? I was being truthful!"

His indignation left him unprepared for Hermione's next course of action. She gathered him up in a tight hug, sniffling into his neck. "You idiot! You absolute, stupid, idiot! What made you think I would be happy with you gone?"

"I don't know. I just thought it on impulse and went through with my idea. Well, at least now I know that Dumbledore won't need me killed and I am free. May I tell you a secret?"

Hermione nodded into his neck and mumbled something that may have been a yes.

"Well the thing is, I actually did die..."

He never got to complete what he was saying as his ears seemed to ring with Hermione's shrill shriek of "WHAT?"

"Erm, yes. At least I think I did. I met some very helpful people **_there,_** who said I'd still be a Parselmouth, but I'd be able to talk to all other living beings."

"You don't have to shock me with a joke you know," she cut him off. "It is falling flat. I am not laughing."

"I am NOT joking. Dumbledore is of the belief that I am a Parselmouth because Voldemort is one. As I said, I met someone in the other place who told me this. If I prove it to you that I can communicate with all creatures, would you believe me?"

"I would. But I don't want to. I don't want to believe anything that might mean that you actually died. I don't want you to leave me. You are my best friend." Her tears had not abated.

"I didn't either. But if the choice is between me not leaving and you being safe, you being safe wins any time of the day, any day of the week. Riddle singled you out by name before my scar called out to him. He could have used me to harm you. Do you think I'd be able to forgive myself if anything happened to you because of me?"

Deciding that the conversation had become too serious, she tried to tease him. "Is this something to do with you almost calling me 'your Hermione', Mr. Potter?"

Harry decided to pay her back in kind. Assuming a very raspy whisper for his voice, he looked at her with gleaming large eyes and said, "Yeeaass. You are mine, 'Mione, my precioussss..." He realised as he said it, that it was essentially true. She _was_ precious. And so was her laughter, as she reacted to Harry's best imitation by swatting his arm slightly.

"I am not telling lies Hermione. You are precious."

Hermione blushed an almost Weasley red. She had never heard Harry speak in such a way, and surmised that it was the effect of the scar healing. She couldn't believe that someone would speak about her that way, except for her parents. She stared back at Harry and by the sense that she had somehow developed that told her when he lied and when he didn't, she realised that he was being earnest. Harry wondered if her self-doubt was what led her to sell herself short and kiss Ron in the middle of the final battle, hoping that he wouldn't forget 'them' afterwards, if it came. This time he was going to be selfish. He wasn't going to force himself down her throat, but he was going to put himself in front of her. He did something he had never done before.

He kissed her cheek, causing her to blush deeper still and whisper, "Harry! What did you just do?"

Harry feared he had been too forward and mumbled an apology, fearing he had bollixed his chances at doing what he had come back in time to do.

"Harry James Potter! Don't you apologise for...that! I liked it!" She responded with a small kiss on the cheek of her own and hurried out of the ward with a massive blush and beaming smile, leaving Harry smiling vacantly as he gazed into the distance.

Unbeknownst to either of them, they were observed by two people. Poppy Pomfrey squealed in delight inwardly. She decided to raise her bet in the Weasley Twins' stakes, and to give Minerva an inside tip to do the same. Ginny Weasley however, was distraught. Her theory was right. Hermione Granger was well on the way to be Harry's girlfriend.


	5. Chapter 5

**Forcing the Changes - I**

Of all the people who had met him that day, Hermione arguably fared the worst. She had recurring dreams of Harry getting bitten by the basilisk or stabbing himself in the head and not being healed by Fawkes. Twice that night she had woken up in a cold sweat screaming out his name, only to find that she was having nightmares. Finally she gathered her bedclothes and trudged off to the Infirmary where Harry was sleeping like a baby. Smiling slightly, she patted his head when he turned around and snuggled, clutching at her arm like a teddy bear. She gently pried her arm from his grasp and settled into a large chair and promptly curled up and slept.

She woke up the next day in the common room around eight in a couch by the fire. Blinking around blearily, she saw her best friend staring out of a nearby window and letting out a shrill high pitched whistle. A minute later, a majestic eagle owl landed onto the window sill. It fluttered its wings and then proceeded to converse with Harry in an exchange of low hoots and hums and sad sounding whistles. Harry then held out an envelope for the owl to deliver, and the owl waited patiently till its load was fixed. Gently nipping Harry's finger, it gratefully partook of a strip of bacon that he held in his hand before flying out of the window to who knew where, as Harry smiled, gave a low, mournful hoot, and muttered, "Fly well Ra!" He turned around to Hermione and froze. She was looking at him with an expression that among many things showed fear. They stood and stared at each other for quite a while. Finally she broke the silence.

"How did I end up here?" was the first, and obvious question. She certainly was no somnambulist.

"Levitated you," replied the time traveller.

It was a violation of sorts. People could levitate her anywhere they wished this way! But then, this was Harry. In this case, it did not need much thought. He had been released by Madam Pomfrey, or more likely, had escaped, and had taken her along without disturbing her sleep. So she just shrugged, and pointed to the window before asking, "What was that?"

"I just sent an owl to Gringotts for arrangement of the rendering of the basilisk."

"You know that that's not what I am talking about. What was it with the owl?"

"Oh that! I was calling out to Hedwig, but she is a bit ill. She seems to be some sort of a queen among the owls. She sent her 'emissary' to 'her human' with the authorisation to deliver any letters in her stead. Right drama queen she is," he said smiling fondly.

"The owl, it _told_ you that?"

" ** _He_** told me that. Yes. His name is Ra. Apparently his parents named him after the Ancient Egyptian Sun God to bless his flight."

"I don't believe you," she scoffed, but her voice had a definite tremble.

Harry sighed and rubbed his eyes wearily. "Okay. Don't believe me now. If we go to the owlery, take Hedwig to Hagrid and he decides that she is ill, will you believe me then?"

She spent a long moment staring into the fireplace and then nodded, unable to articulate her responses. It wasn't that she didn't believe his new abilities. She didn't _want_ to believe the way that he had come upon them. It would be at least circumstantial proof that Harry had communicated with the owl in its own- for lack of a better word- language. And she definitely didn't want to believe that he had really died. She had heard about out-of-body experiences that patients in the accidental trauma wards or those undergoing a surgical procedure sometimes reported. It had always been something vague for her. Now it was too close for comfort.

"I'll wait till you are ready. Then we'll go out together, fetch Hedwig and go out down to Hagrid's," he prompted.

Nodding again, her voice failing her, she numbly went off to the girl's dormitory. At the top of the stairs, she turned around, and asked, "You weren't joking?"

"No. I was being absolutely serious," he said, a smile attempting to tug at his face as he remembered Sirius' stock joke that always managed to irritate Moony. The words had barely left him when a missile with a trail of bushy brown hair collided into him. Years and years of practice with handling Hermione's hugs, and especially the hugs given at a run, prepared him to weather out this sudden reaction.

"I still don't want to believe you," she mumbled somewhere into his shoulder and then left as abruptly as she came. Harry who was still recovering from the shock of her sudden impact was left shocked again as she left. It had often happened during his time at Hogwarts that people didn't believe him. In the current time line itself, people hadn't believed him till Hermione had been attacked. The second, fourth and fifth year of his previous timeline came to mind. He had too much practice with not being believed. Yet never had it happened that Hermione hadn't believed him. A more amusing facet to this was that he liked it. He knew _why_ she didn't want to believe him. Unlike Fudge and the magical community when Voldemort returned, unlike Ron and so many others when his name came out of the Goblet of Fire, Hermione refusal to believe him wasn't to safeguard her beliefs and position (as Fudge had done) or as a way out for her jealousy as it was for Ron. It was out of _care and worry._ He wondered how he ever managed to disregard such obvious cues on the part of them both. He knew of course, that her disbelief about Malfoy was not really her fault.

As he waited for her, he nonchalantly picked up his wand and...it just didn't feel right. His trusty wand, a companion of many battles in the old timeline felt limp in his hand. The feeling of solidarity that he felt between his wand and his magic was gone. He tried casting a few simple spells taking care to do so silently. It worked, just about. There was nothing spectacular as he anticipated when performing the spell. He missed the exhilaration that accompanied performing a spell. He tried casting a Patronus Charm, the most difficult spell that he could think of. That was when he got the shock of his life. Once, Prongs would have cantered out of his wand. He was now fuzzy, almost blurred. But he wasn't alone. Accompanying him, now, were the blurred but distinguishable shapes of a large dog, a werewolf and an otter. It was then that he realised that his magic had changed. He looked sadly at his wand, no longer his weapon and magical companion of choice. It was just another problem to deal with.

Prongs, Moony, Padfoot and Mione (as he called the Otter, after the beautiful otter that was Hermione's Patronus) were still prancing around the room, but were not being sustained for as long as he was used to sustaining them. The room was curiously bereft of any other occupants. Harry summoned his Patroni again, and promptly sat down back again in shock as a Griffin joined the four. "Oh Merlin!" he murmured. "As if Padfoot, Prongs, Moony and Mione weren't enough..."

Luckily for him, they wore out just in time as Hermione appeared at the door of the girls' dormitory. "I guess we better get a move on. I- no _we_ are going to Professor McGonagall after visiting Hagrid." At her quizzical stare, he continued, "I am concerned about my school work. You heard what Mrs. Weasley said. The... _thing_ in my head might have adversely affected my mental capacity. I am going to ask her if she can arrange a sort of revision examination for the past two years for me."

"That's brilliant," she gasped excitedly. "I am really glad you are deciding to take your studies seriously."

"So am I. So, Miss Granger, may I have the honour of your company whilst visiting a few friends of mine?"

And they set off to the owlery.

* * *

A while later they were seated in Hagrid's cabin, attempting to politely decline his rock cakes. Fang had bolted as soon as he saw Harry, something Harry was pretty sure had to do with him and Ron taking Fang along into Aragog's lair. That had been one hare-brained plan, Harry mused. He turned his attention back to Hagrid, who was currently complimenting Harry for the way in which he understood Ra's message (they hadn't told him about the conversation with the owl).

"It's jus' a bad rat or summat tha' she's eaten. She'll be righ' as rain in a couple o' days. 'Tis a good thing tha' yeh brough' 'er ter me. A beau'ful owl like her needs special care," he said, lovingly stroking Hedwig as she rested on the massive arm rest of his chair. "Yeh did well to un'erstan' the owl. How yeh ever knew is beyond me, but it's a nice thing in this case, innit?"

Harry could feel Hermione begin to shake beside him as he was at least circumstantially proven right. Deciding to change the subject before it caused her too much distress he thanked Hagrid profusely for helping with Hedwig. He then asked Hagrid a question he knew the gentle giant would never say no to. "Hagrid, if I invite you to two places, would you come with me?"

"Sure 'arry, yeh don' need ter ask, yeh know."

"Good. I am going off to Granny Min's office now. I need a new wand. My old one doesn't work well for me anymore. I mean, after that thing went out of my scar. So when we are going off to Ollivander's maybe you could come with us too, if we are to go after your official exoneration and Ministerial Apology?"

Hagrid was beaming again. The loss of his wand, especially given the fact that his magical education was important for his father, had hit Hagrid hard. He remembered the day he had accompanied the young boy sitting in front of him to buy his first wand. Many people were on good terms with Hagrid, but very few were among those he could truly count as friends. He could have humoured Harry with a "We'll see" or some other generic statement. But he could see that his youngest friend shared Hagrid's excitement for a new wand, and could do nothing but accept the invitation, albeit non-verbally.

"Brilliant. We'll be going to Diagon Alley before term ends. When Granny Min tells me the time, I'll be around to tell you. Now the other place is the Chamber of Secrets. I thought you'd like to see the basilisk yourself. I planned on inviting Ginny, Ron, the twins, Percy, Hermione, Justin, Colin, Sir Nicholas and Penelope Clearwater. Of course, Chief Bones, Professors Dumbledore, McGonagall, Flitwick and Sprout will be there. So, if you want to come, do tell me."

For a worshipper of the creatures of the most dangerous variety, this was a treat for the eyes. "O' course I'll be there 'arry, yeh don' need ter ask. It's jus' a pity that yeh had ter kill it."

Harry and Hermione just shook their heads at Hagrid. "Hagrid, a basilisk kills. End of story. It had to be put down. This one though was used to hurt Hermione. It got personal for me, there on. It hurt her, I killed it. It wouldn't have ever got _my_ pity," Harry replied testily.

"Nah. Not say'n that it's bad that you killed it an' all. An o' course anyth'n tha' hurts Hermione 'as got to be hurt back ten-fold. It's jus' tha' it was a magical creature. Can' help it tha' I like the beasties, now, can I?"

"Of course," breathed Harry, a bit worried by his sudden anger directed at Hagrid. "I am sorry Hagrid. It's just the fact that Hermione's been attacked by a monster twice in two years that's got me on the edge." He let out a long calming breath.

"Sure," replied Hagrid, though his tone was mirthful and teasing. "Next yeh'll be shadowing her aroun' ter keep her safe."

"I could do that, if that's what it takes. You all matter to me too much to lose any of you." Harry's serious reply dimmed Hagrid's smile a bit.

"As it should be. Yeh matter more'n tha' ter us too." Then with his eyes crinkling as he broke out into a grin, he said, "Yeh know, yeh are followin' the Potter tradition. Brave Gryffindor bloke worried abou' the brightest witch of the generation an' all. Yeh ease off a little, become a wee bit mischievous and yeh'll be like yer Dad, 'cept that yeh're already friends with Hermione. An' she's more like Lily tha' anyone knows."

Hagrid's grin erupted into full blown gales of laughter as the two students in question blushed deeply.

"We are leaving, Hagrid. Harry will be back around later as he said," Hermione declared sweetly, but her tone brooked no argument and Harry obediently left, waving Hagrid a goodbye in a long-suffering manner.

* * *

As they walked back to the castle, an awkward silence seemed to take them over, each of them trying to figure out what Hagrid had implied. Harry thought he was being too pushy, if Hagrid of all people (who wasn't the sharpest tack in the box when it came to females of the human species as far as Harry knew) had figured it out. He was worried that he would end up pushing her away if he continued behaving as he was. Had he known what Hermione was thinking, he might have felt happier with the results of his efforts. She was assiduously keeping a nonchalant facade, but inside, she was totally flustered. She was a nearly fourteen-year-old girl after all.

The way Harry seemed righteously angry with the basilisk for hurting her, and also declaring the intent to be around her all the time to protect her warmed her heart, though she would stoutly maintain that she needed no protection. She had long since come to the conclusion that he was her best friend; a best friend that she might have a crush on. What Hagrid had said was not something she had not thought before, but now that she had heard it, she was finding it a very pleasant thought to think about over and over again. She blushed as she immediately suppressed those thoughts. Harry was still too childish in such matters. He may have really wanted to protect her and nothing else, and the declaration was certainly earnest. That was who her best friend was. Yet, she found fledgling hope within her as she remembered the time when he was in the infirmary. He had called her precious. She sighed. For the second time in three days, Harry had rendered her into a confused state.

To break the oppressive silence enveloping them, Harry asked a question, which, in hindsight he realised, was the worst question to ask. "So do you believe me now?"

Hermione stopped in mid-stride. She looked at Harry with the most piteous expression she had ever worn. He could see that she had started shaking slightly again. Realising his mistake, he wrapped her in a tight hug, as she turned into him and buried her head somewhere in his chest. Muffled sniffles quickly confirmed Harry's mistake. "I'm sorry Hermione. I shouldn't have asked you th-"

"Why did you do it?" she cut him off.

"Why did I do what?"

"You know what I asked. I want the real answer. Not the one you gave from your sickbed."

"What makes you think that it isn't the truth? I'd do anything for you, to keep you safe and happy. You know that, don't you?"

"Yes, I do. That's what I am scared of." She just hugged him tighter for a second, before letting him go. "What must you think of me! I am getting all weepy..."

"Please Hermione. I am sorry. I can think on my feet in most situations. I am utterly incapacitated when I have to deal with a crying person. I don't know how to comfort you, or anyone for that matter, properly," he begged desperately. "Don't ever think, though, that I am trying to undermine your sadness, or think any less of you ever, though I don't know why you are still sad. I can try to understand, but I don't automatically understand. I-" he trailed off, flushing slightly. "I am rambling, aren't I?"

Whatever it was about his desperate attempts to quail her tears that she found funny, Harry never knew. All he knew was that at that moment he was hearing of the most beautiful sound, Hermione's laughter. "Oh Harry," she gasped, "Don't worry. You are stupid sometimes, but you are a nice kind of stupid." She took his hand and led the way to Professor McGonagall's office, still chuckling slightly.

* * *

Five minutes later, they were seated comfortably in McGonagall's office. She was pleasantly surprised to see Harry that early in her office on a day after term end.

"Professor McGonagall, I had certain things to discuss with you regarding my academics."

His use of her title instead of calling her as he would now, privately, had alerted her to the discussion veering towards school matters. Raising an eyebrow as an unasked question, she peered at Harry intently.

"Well, several things actually. The first thing that I have got a problem with is my wand. You do know about the ways in which Voldemort," he pressed on ignoring her violent wince, "was connected to me, don't you?"

"Ways? You mean you had a connection apart from your scar?"

"Yes. The wand. We have brother wands. The cores of our wands came from Fawkes. I am unable to shake the feeling that the wand actually chose the piece of Voldemort in me. I tried using it to cast spells, but they aren't working as they would normally."

He proceeded to give a complete demonstration of all the second year spells that he had revised when he had returned (escaped) from the infirmary at the crack of dawn. While she could see that he was certainly performing the spells properly, it was getting difficult for him to coax his magic from it.

"I agree Mr. Potter. You need a new wand. If I may so advise, however, learn to use this wand with your left hand. Please try."

Harry, though intrigued, obeyed. The results, though not perfect, were considerably better. He remembered using Draco's wand after he had won it. The feeling that the phoenix-feather wand now gave him was a similar one, when used with his left hand.

"Yes. We will go to Diagon alley today. I will come with you, myself."

"Thank you Professor. The other important matter is about the electives. I am ashamed to say I chose Divination simply because Ron chose it, and because I had heard that it was an easy pass. Now that I know that I was inhibited in some ways by my scar, and also that my performance has been below par due also in part to my substandard efforts, I want to change things. I intend to drop Divination in favour of Ancient Runes and Arithmancy. Would you also arrange for me to be tested for the past two years, at least practically?"

Minerva McGonagall had seen many students pass through the school during her time as a teacher. She was impressed by the way Harry was trying to correct the course of his life academically. "I am happy that you chose the better options, and that you have done so before any administrative work for the courses has started. I will make sure to remember the changes. About the testing, I am sure that except for Severus most others will be willing to help."

"Thank you. Now, Granny Min," he grinned at her, "I also wanted to talk about some friends of mine."

Minerva smiled at the markedly different tone and the title he had used. She waved her hand as a gesture to ask him to continue.

"Well, you know how Neville always seems so scared and has problems with performing magic, don't you? Well, I realised he is having the same problem with his wand as I am now having with mine. I know for a fact that he is using his father's. I know that he is scared of his grandmother and is therefore not insisting for his own wand, but it is harming him. I remember the times I used to play with Neville. He was very powerful. He is my mother's godson after all, just as his mother is my godmother. I have largely ignored him, as have most of the other Gryffindors. I think that it is time that I do my part as a friend, or more importantly as a brother. Would you convince him and his grandmother? I don't know how to broach the subject. Just as an aside, do you think he could be checked for any core bindings too? I was bound, he might be too."

Minerva was astounded at the observations. What the professors had passed off as low magical ability was actually a struggle with an unmatched wand. She would be having words with Augusta about that. She was also proud of the boy who she called a grandson for taking some steps to help a friend.

"I never knew this was the problem. Rest assured that Neville will be using his own wand from the next year. But I want you to get him to talk to me first. Don't bring up the subject of wands. Just make him a bit comfortable."

"Brilliant! Can Neville come with us, please?" He asked in his most earnest tone and with what Minerva called his 'puppy-dog eyes' that she had no option but to acquiesce.

"The next thing is about Hermione's electives." When she opened her mouth to protest, Hermione found herself unceremoniously interrupted. "I know that she has signed up for all electives. I also know that at least two of these subjects have classes at the _same time._ Are you going to give her a Time Turner?"

"How would you know?" Minerva shot back, shocked and surprised. "You do know that you know too much, don't you?"

"So I **am** right. Now, think about it. We both know how Hermione is obsessed with her studies and related academic work. If you let her take all the subjects, she will have to study _eleven_ subjects. She won't take any rest, and will eventually lose her mind. Now, I know that Muggle Studies is useless. Yes," he said over the two ladies' shocked expressions. "I read the book when she was petrified as I tried to imagine what to do when she wasn't around to talk to. Whatever they have as muggle studies has been outdated from use about sixty years back. The only magical perspective on muggle life she'll get from the subject is that the magical community doesn't understand and doesn't interact with muggles. As for Divination, I am pretty sure that she isn't a seer. Why waste time studying something that doesn't ever mean anything concrete? I have conducted my own discrete inquiries. As far as I have come to know, the subject and the teacher are both considered to be fakes."

Harry had to start denigrating Divination right then. It was his way of ensuring that Dumbledore, to whom Minerva still gave her allegiance, her knee jerk withdrawal from the Order notwithstanding, knew that any attempts to hold the Prophecy as a means of manipulating him would be smote down with extreme sarcasm, disbelief and ridicule.

Put that way, neither Hermione nor Minerva had any argument to counter anything that Harry said. Twice Hermione opened her mouth to argue, but couldn't say anything substantial. She had seen the Muggle studies book herself, so she knew that Harry was right about the subject being severely outdated. She looked at her teacher morosely, "Is he right?"

"Absolutely. He has done enough research to come up with those arguments. You have a good friend, Ms. Granger. Take his advice here. Drop Divination and Muggle Studies."

"But they can be interesting!" Hermione protested.

"Hermione, I know you. You don't need to prove your worth to anyone. I am not letting you lose your head over some quest to prove your worth over purebloods!"

Hermione had opened her mouth to protest, and then backed down all sails flapping. How the hell had he understood that?

"I agree, Miss Granger. In fact whether or not you decide to do so, I will take the decision out of your hands. You won't take all electives. You will drop those two subjects," she said with a tone of such authority and finality that Hermione squeaked in fright and nodded fervently.

"Thank you. She would have lost it completely next year. Now lastly, please summon all of Luna Lovegood's stolen possessions. I have it on good authority that the 'claws bully her. She fears taking it to her head of house for fear of retribution."

Minerva did so immediately and was amazed and appalled in equal measure by the number of items now making their way to her table. Even the privacy of the poor girl hadn't been spared.

"Harry, it is good that you brought this to my notice. Filius will hear about this from me. In the meanwhile, could you befriend Luna to some extent? Your intervention in such matters will mean a lot. You have much influence on the students. You may be able to coax her out of any shell that she may have retreated into."

"That was my intention. Thank you for taking the time to talk to me Granny. I'll go now."

"You don't have to thank me. I'll always be here for you, Mr. Potter, and also for you, Harry," she said with a smile.

Harry left satisfied that he had started impacting several lives in time to make a marked difference according to Cassiopeia's plan.


	6. Chapter 6

**Forcing Changes - II**

 **Crack Warning:** Absurdly cored wands.

* * *

When Harry and Hermione returned to the common room nearly an hour and half later, they found most of Gryffindor still sleeping in, while a few had started their day. Remembering his promise to McGonagall, and also to Cassiopeia, Harry started looking around for Neville. They found him practicing his spells privately in a space set off from the common room and connected to the main tower by a set of spiral stairs. They watched him struggle, but still doggedly return to his attempts, till he was satisfied with the results. Finally, he sat down, tired. Seizing the chance, Harry called out to Neville, who jumped to his feet with his wand at the ready. Harry was surprised. He really hadn't known Neville much, he realised. Even as a pudgy second year, instead of the battle hardened man he had last seen the night of the final battle in the previous timeline, Neville was subconsciously channelling his inner Mad-Eye Moody.

"Oh, it's you two," said Neville, his nervousness returning. "Do you want me to leave so that you can talk?"

Harry felt incredibly guilty about the way he had treated Neville, with just enough respect as is given to a passing acquaintance. Here was a powerful wizard trapped in a cocoon of fear, self-doubt and lack of confidence. By ignoring Neville, Harry realised, he had only added to his psychological entrapment. He decided to cut that off immediately. "We do want to talk, but you don't need to leave. In fact, you need to stay. I wanted to talk to you."

"You wanted to talk to me?"

"Yes. First off, Neville, I want to apologise to you. I haven't been the best possible friend for you these last two years. I mean, you were just as new here, and I took no efforts to go past my nervousness and befriend people. More importantly, I have failed as a brother to you, as our mothers had envisaged us to be."

"Brothers?"

"Yes. My mother was your godmother Neville. And your mother is mine. I know that she is currently...indisposed, but yes, that is the crux of the matter."

"When did you find out? Why did you think about that now? I just thought you didn't want to be friends with me or something."

Harry grimaced. He really had behaved that way. "I know. I am sorry for that. You see, the killing curse left a trace of dark magic on me that made me stay away from people. The residue of the curse was in that damned scar." He lifted his bangs to show the almost healed jagged line on his forehead. "That and the fact that the Dursleys actively forbade me from having any friends at all made me nervous around people."

"Harry! Your scar! It's almost gone!"

"Yes. I got it healed. You see it, don't you? Well, removing the residue of the curse unlocked my blocked memories. Generally, memories from the very early age of a person are repressed by newer memories as the brain develops. The dark magic in my scar prevented that small part from developing fully with age. So I remember some parts of my life before that second Halloween. You featured heavily in my memories. We were already friends. I am really sorry that I didn't pay you much attention, if I am to be totally honest, but I just hope we can start again."

Neville gaped at Harry. He had always been an outcast of sorts within Gryffindor. He was happy that someone had tried to reach out to him. But for Harry to apologise for such behaviour and ask to be his friend was something he hadn't expected. He tried to get his head around the things he had said about the scar.

"So your scar had Dark Magic in it? And it is gone now?"

"Yes. Hermione, Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall were there when I had it treated." Knowing that the memory wasn't a happy one for Hermione, he slung a hand across her shoulders and gave her a one-armed squeeze.

"I really was your friend?"

"Yes you were. And don't mind me saying so, but you were also a very powerful wizard..."

"I am not powerful," Neville sighed dejectedly.

"That's dragon dung," Harry exclaimed in vehement exasperation, catching Neville by surprise. "You are powerful. I know the problem that you are facing. Though, I must add, that I am not entirely sure it's just one problem. I do have another suspicion. If you wish, I could help set up an appointment with Gringotts' healers. I told Professor McGonagall about it, and she agrees. She also accepted my solution, though she wants to talk to you about it, preferably today. If you don't believe me, you can check for yourself after you meet her."

"You think I am powerful? You believe that your solution will help me?"

"I **_know_** you're powerful. I am sure that the solution will help you, though not completely, if my other suspicion is correct. Look, why don't you go meet McGonagall? Then you'll know for sure too."

The look of sheer hope in Neville's eyes made Harry feel guiltier and happy at the same time. He had lost so many years with a trusted friend, just because of a stupid scar and an old man who wouldn't divulge information to his tools. The two exchanged a smile as Neville thanked him and hurried off to meet Professor McGonagall.

Hermione, who had been totally quiet during their conversation, was now considering Harry with genuine Harry who she had met before her petrifaction was now gone. She had grown accustomed to a moody, sometimes grouchy Harry who stuck to his two friends. That Harry was very inexpressive, shied from contact and was of the 'leap before you look' kind. The new Harry was as much a planner as an action-oriented person. He had taken matters into his own hands and had actually shown an inclination towards studies. He had proper arguments to dissuade _her_ from what she had decided. She liked the new, improved model, but she had one big fear. She had befriended the old Harry. Was this new Harry going to stop being her friend? Till that moment he had shown no signs to support that fear. On the contrary, he had become more than just considerate in her case. He was actually fussing over her. Fear though, wasn't something that could be removed without reassurances. She began nibbling at her bottom lip in her anxiety as she was lost in her thoughts.

"It's not going to happen you know." His quiet declaration caught Hermione short. At her questioning glance, he continued, "Just because I will have more friends or because I have changed doesn't mean that I will stop being yours." The double entendre was unintended, but it was there all the same.

Hermione sighed. After all her worries, there was that. Harry could very eerily know her exact thoughts. She didn't even need to speak them out loud for him to allay her fears. "How did you know?"

"When you start biting your lip in anxiety, go into deep thought and scrunch up your eyes for that just after I speak to a new friend, I don't need to be a mind reader to know what you think," he stated simply.

She just smiled fondly as they left for breakfast.

* * *

Down in the Great Hall which he had last seen with the floor strewn with bodies and as a general picture of destruction and devastation, Harry was hit by the sudden realisation that several of those now in the Hall were still alive. He saw Colin, chatting away merrily with his year-mates, Fred engaged in a deep discussion with George over something (that was ominous, such a deep discussion generally was followed by a quite spectacular pandemonium), Lavender chatting with Parvati (gossiping was the more appropriate word, but impolite). He inhaled heavily in the scents and sounds of Hogwarts as he had always known it instead of the dreary, devastated atmosphere he had left in the old time-line.

He still sincerely wished for the year to end, t. For the most part, he had no plan to deal with Wormtail, nor did he know how to behave normally around Ron and Ginny in the long run. He had been taking things by the ear and just winging it along. He was really thankful that he had at least Cassiopeia's guidance to fall back on. He looked back again at the Hall. Hermione led the way to the Gryffindor table, Harry trailing in her wake and plonked down opposite Ron and Ginny. Harry took a seat beside her.

"Where have you two been?" asked Ron curiously.

"McGonagall's office," answered Harry. "I changed my electives and made our little bookworm drop Divination and Muggle Studies."

"What did you change your electives for? I thought we were going to take the same ones so that we could at least have someone friendly in those lectures," groused Ron in a very frustrated manner.

"Ron, I changed the electives because I am sure what I want to do now. When Hermione was petrified, I went around and checked books related to all the electives. Divination needs a person to have seer capabilities. I am not one. 'Muggle Studies' has a syllabus that is absolutely ancient. No one uses those things now. Most importantly, I realised that the magical world is far, far behind the muggle world as far as technology is concerned. There is nothing new happening in that sphere. I decided to learn Arithmancy and ancient runes because that is something I can incorporate with muggle technology. I want to start my own firm to produce magical technology."

"Why would you do that? We get by fine anyway," Ron protested.

"Why wouldn't I? Muggles have flown to the moon in space ships and have facilities to show live matches on television. Think of it. 'Chudley Canons v/s Puddlemere United game' being telecast live on TV. You can watch even if you don't have tickets to the game! Of course, you'd rather be playing in that one, but just think of it!" Harry's example was certainly spot-on. Watching his favourite Quidditch team without having to buy tickets immediately had Ron buying into the idea. His face acquired a dreamy smile that sent half the Gryffindor table into peals of laughter. "Besides," he continued, "You want to get into Quidditch. Taking Ancient Runes would help you as broomsticks have Runes etched on them to channel the magic of the flyer. You could start your own broomstick making business, or work with an existing company. That'll be totally different from any of your brothers; a highly technical job that mixes well with a game you are passionate about." That caught Ron's attention quite well.

Harry didn't want to bother himself with trying to 'reform'- as Dumbledore would put it- Ron. It was only one small insidious suggestion that Ron had to decide whether or not to take under advisement. That would be the extent of his influence on the lives of such "future rapists," he spat mentally. Harry's acting skills were going to take a severe improvement over the summer to keep the charade going.

A while later when they were deep into their breakfast, Ra flew over with the reply from Gringotts. They had affirmed that they would perform the rendering services at five percent of the total sale price of the rendered parts. They would also be bringing along a surveyor and Harry would need to contact a Ministry official to supervise the process. They would also take a memory of the killing of the basilisk and a contract to be signed in their presence for verification purposes. Harry would be allowed to bring along as many friends/ colleagues as he wanted. Harry took the letter straight to McGonagall, arranged for her to call Amelia Bones, all the victims of petrifaction, Dumbledore, Flitwick and Sprout as well as any Weasleys that wanted to come. He suggested that Neville and Luna accompany them too. He also ensured that anyone bearing the Dark Mark was not to be allowed and that he had intimated this condition to the Goblins who would be checking the people accompanying him to the Chamber. The sneer from Snape made his day. He may have claimed to be against Voldemort, but he had called his mother a mud-blood, had made Sirius' life hell and had made his own life hell. He wasn't going to be forgiven, whatever the claims of love and remorse he made. He truly didn't believe Snape to be anything but a Death Eater.

* * *

A blonde haired girl was roaming the corridors of the castle, trying to search for her lost things in its nooks and crannies. She was frowning heavily as she hadn't found anything that had been stolen from her during the year. Luna Lovegood was one disappointed young witch. Having lost her mother at the age of nine, she had been brought up by a father who believed in the most ludicrous things, and she had bought into those beliefs to a certain extent. She had a single friend in Ginny Weasley, but the red-headed girl's infatuation with the boy-who-lived pulled them further and further apart. Her first year at Hogwarts had been a really terrible time. She had been bullied mercilessly by the senior students. She hadn't even been able to complain for fear of retribution. Her odd beliefs had compounded her misery as people now called her 'Loony'. It hurt her to no end that people would target her in such a hateful manner.

"Psst..."

She whirled around to where she could hear the whisper call from. She peeped into an empty classroom, when a voice solemnly called out, "Do come in, Luna."

Harry Potter was sitting on one of the benches, a picture of calmness. His demeanour was cold and distant, however, making Luna wonder why he was picking on her when they had had no contact whatsoever. She cautiously edged into the classroom.

"Please shut the door. We need to talk." The pronouncement, though informal, was made in a clipped tone. Luna complied, though she was currently worried about the whole set-up. She seated herself on a bench that Harry motioned with his hand to.

"Well Luna, firstly let me tell you that I know the Nargles have stolen your things. I saw them at it, and reported it to Professor McGonagall. She took all the things back from them and they are currently in her office. She wants to meet you as soon as possible. The other thing I must tell you is that I had a bad case of evil wrackspurts which suppressed my memories. I was afflicted on the Halloween night of 1981. I recently had the wrackspurts that Voldemort had put into my scar removed. I now remember my parents and their friends and my playmates of that time. I remember Aunt Celeste and you, Luna Lovegood. Would you mind terribly to be my friend again?"

Luna had been expecting a round of subtle bullying, even though she had observed enough of the boy over the year. The change in Harry's voice once the door was closed, his mention of Nargles and wrackspurts, him mentioning her mother and most importantly his offer of friendship all shocked her to the core. She sat in silence, never once losing the dreamy, faraway frown that she wore on her face.

"Luna! Please respond at least! I promise that I wasn't making fun of you in the slightest," Harry said, pleading his case.

"Friends? It's nice to have friends. I don't have any now. Ginevra was a friend but she is too taken up by the idea of the boy-who-lived that she forgot to be a young girl," Luna replied placidly. "Why would you want to be my friend?"

"Luna, as I explained to you before, my memories were suppressed by whatever it was that Voldemort did to me that night. I lost my memories of my parents, my godparents, my honorary uncle, Neville, you, Aunt Celeste and Uncle Xenophilius. The night before last, I had the trace of dark magic removed from me and all the memories came back. I have not been good to you as I didn't even pay attention to you or meet you before. Our mothers were friends and intended for us to grow up as close as possible to each other. I know who bullies you. From now on, anyone troubling you will be answering to me," he declared stoutly. "As for Ginny, she was cursed by a Dark Object. She couldn't think for herself until that object had been destroyed. Could you forgive her?"

"By Dark Object do you mean a boy in a book? I saw you once before, and then you looked like there were two of you. I wanted to tell you, but nobody listens to me," she said in a toneless, distant manner.

Harry was astounded. He had always known that Luna was different, but this was beyond his knowledge about her. He knew though that he had to make her comfortable around him first, and also prove his friendly intentions. "Luna, did you know that my mum was your godmother? That means if something had befallen your parents, you would have been raised as my little sister, if my parents had been alive."

"Really?" Luna asked, her naturally protuberant eyes widening comically in surprise. "You aren't making fun of Loony Lovegood, are you?"

"Nobody calls my little sister Loony, not even herself!"

Luna's frown changed into a beautiful, dreamy smile that seemed to illuminate her entire face. "I would like a brother," she said in placid contentment.

"Thank you!" cried Harry, before pulling Luna into a hug that she returned with enthusiasm.

"Please tell me you are not joking," said Luna seriously, once they were done with their embrace.

"Of course not, Luna. I might joke and banter every now and then and even tease you as big brothers would tease their sisters, but I will never joke about being there for you whenever you want me to or need me to," Harry replied, kissing her lightly on her head. "Say, Luna. We are going to the Chamber of Secrets tomorrow for some work with the Goblins. Would you like to come? I mean, I know it's abrupt, but the Goblins did say that I could bring along my friends."

Luna was hardly ever invited to anything, and realised that Harry was really attempting to befriend her. She beamed at him happily in acceptance and then skipped off to McGonagall's office, leaving a very bemused Harry behind.

* * *

That afternoon, Harry and Neville were summoned to Professor McGonagall's office post haste. Knowing why they had been summoned, Harry grabbed his Gringotts vault key and scurried off with Neville, leaving Ron a note to tell him where he was off to. Neville looked decidedly sprightly, though his air of nervousness hadn't entirely deserted him.

"I take it that Professor McGonagall convinced your Grandmother?"

"Oh yes," replied Neville. "I had always thought my grandmother to be the sternest person I would ever meet. When she got a proper dressing down from Professor McGonagall, my opinion certainly changed," he said, chuckling slightly.

They entered the office, where Professor McGonagall was ready waiting for them. "Good, you two are well on time, Mr Longbottom, Mr. Potter. We will be taking the Floo to the Leaky Cauldron from here, before we go to Gringotts and then to Ollivander's. I hope you all are amenable to the plan?"

With only nods of acceptance, they lined up in front of the Floo and left for the Leaky Cauldron. While Harry almost had the small, special reception, Professor McGonagall sharply brought the crowd to heel and shepherded them all out to Diagon Alley. Harry had brought along the list of people he had invited along to the Chamber of Secrets for Goblin perusal and approval. By purposely being courteous to them and begging pardon for his ignorance of Goblin greetings, as well as being cautiously curious about the Goblin community and its customs, Harry was able to suitably impress the beings entrusted by the humans with their money and treasure. He asked Griphook, the first Goblin that he had ever met, to spare some time to teach him if he could, not realising the tremendous faux pas he committed. The roar of laughter from the Goblins (a rarity for the warrior banking community) had him chagrined as Griphook explained that such knowledge was only passed on from father to son among the Goblins. The boy's earnest wish to learn about the much vilified and grudgingly trusted community meant that the Goblin felt honour bound to direct him to a small book which once was the code of conduct during human-Goblin interactions and another which explained and helped to teach oneself Goblin-speak.

Their work at Gringotts done, the group left for Ollivander's to buy the two wands. Garrick Ollivander was surprised to see two customers coming in for their wands at a time when business was generally slacking. Though he occasionally had a few coming in after accidentally breaking their wands in accidents or for getting the wands repaired, new wands were not so common at the time of the year.

"Mr. Potter, Mr. Longbottom, I am surprised that you have all come for new wands. You, Mr. Longbottom, I expected you to come two years ago. I believe that is your father's wand? Oak, dragon heartstring, eleven and one eighth of an inch, isn't it? Hmm. Not well matched for you, not well matched at all. But you, Mr. Potter, hadn't you bought your own wand? How is it that you are in for a new one?"

Harry glanced nervously at Professor McGonagall. They were treading dangerous waters here. The information regarding the relation between brother wands and the Horcrux was strictly classified. She took the hint and interrupted, "I have observed that after certain incidents, Mr. Potter's wand doesn't respond to his magic as well as it used to. He will use it of course, but we need another one for him. I hope you can trust a teacher's judgement in this matter." She then glared at the wand maker for good measure, who quailed slightly in response.

Neville was the first to try. He had a problem coaxing his magic to respond and had very few incidents of accidental magic dotting his childhood. He was a bit nervous, and had to be encouraged by the three adults to try. After six different wands, Neville finally found a wand that filled him with warmth. It made him feel connected to his magic. The genuine smile on his face that portrayed all the happiness he felt was evidence enough for Ollivander. The thirteen inches, cherry and unicorn tail hair wand had a proud new wizard connected to it.

Through all this, Harry had been feeling a deep tingling in his very consciousness. It was as if a very sentient being was calling out to him. His eyes glazed over as a feeling of immense warmth, peace, contentment and power washed over him. He soon reached the edge of a trance-like state, barely maintaining enough conscious thought to register anything around him. As Neville found his wand and they all turned to him, Professor McGonagall wore shocked and worried looks while Mr. Ollivander looked at him in reverence.

Rousing Harry gently, he asked, "Mr. Potter? Are you alright? Is something the matter? You don't seem to be...all here."

"Yes sir. I am sorry I seemed to phase out for a while. Now, I will understand if you deem me insane for saying this, but I can feel a wand calling out to me." He looked at the old man with a little trepidation. If he expected any of the three adults to laugh at him or brush him off, he was in for a very large surprise.

With wonder and awe in their voices, Professor McGonagall and Mr. Ollivander chorused in a whisper, "You can feel the call of a wand?"

"I am sorry sir. I didn't mean to offend you. I know how you worship the art and science of wand-ma-"

"Silly boy! I am not offended! It is the highest honour for a wand-maker to have made a wand that calls to its human! Please come here, and follow the calls of the, voice? Follow it. It is bound to be a wand of much importance!"

Emboldened, Harry set himself upon the trail of this wand. He delved deeper and deeper into the shop where the older wands were housed (this made Ollivander _very_ happy) until he reached a row where he was sure the wand just wanted nothing more than to connect with his hands. He climbed up the ladder to the third level of the shelf, and finally reached out to the box. It fairly vibrated in his hands. He returned to the shop front. He made to hand the box to Garrick Ollivander who cringed away from it.

"Mr. Potter! I cannot touch it. Indeed, nobody else can! It chose you and was made for you. Open it, and hold the wand, bond with it; make your magic one with the wand."

Harry only had to open the box; no sooner did he do so, than the wand fairly leapt into his hands. The resulting feeling of sheer power and of his mind being opened to infinite possibilities almost put him in a daze. He quietly sat down on the chair and took deep breaths to steady himself. The two elders observed him as he did so, seemingly at a loss of words to say.

Finally, Mr. Ollivander offered, "That, Mr. Potter is one extremely dangerous wand. Perhaps an explanation would be necessary. The woods are of great symbolism, Hazelwood reinforced with oak. The core of the wand though is an absolute astonishment. A tail hair of a Griffin, a tail hair of a unicorn, eye-string of a Basilisk, a dragon-heartstring, and a phoenix feather – curiously, the same phoenix, all strengthened by the essence of an erumpent's horn and Basilisk venom. It is powerful, very much so. It was made by my great-grandfather. It is capable of very powerful magic; light and dark. You must not fear it. A bonded wand will always obey the owner. So you must use it carefully. You may be interested to know that such wands have no trace attached to them. A wand bonding is recorded as a magical equivalent of emancipation, because it means that your magic and your mind are sufficiently in tune to allow you to use magic responsibly without any sort of monitor."

Harry had been listening to Ollivander extolling the details of the wand. "Sir, magic is neither light nor dark; it is the wizard or witch who is so. That is of course, my belief. If a so-called dark sort of magic is used for the proper purposes, it benefits the light side and so, has no business being classified as dark. It's the intent that matters." He said it quite respectfully, but firmly; it had his Granny Min beaming.

He then proceeded, with their permission, to perform a spell. He was convinced that he would be performing the Patronus charm better with this wand than any other. He thought of the war that would never come; of Hermione loving him; of Sirius and Remus being alive and well; and of many such happy thoughts, he incanted, "EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

The beautiful stag, hound, werewolf, female otter and the griffin all bounded out in distinct, pure corporeal forms, spreading light and warmth in the dingy shop. Reaching up to them he patted each of them in turn and then turned to the others who were watching the creatures in unabashed surprise and awe.

Granny Min was the first to break out of her stupor. "You can perform the Patronus Charm? Harry, you have five corporeal Patroni? Many adults can't do this," she finished in a whisper.

"Yes Granny Min. I read about the charm in Oliver's charms book. All these Patroni have special places in my heart and life. Let me introduce. This is Prongs," he said patting the stag. They could see the ripples on the silvery light that formed at his touch. "He signifies my father and mother. This," he said now caressing the hound, "is Padfoot. And this is Moony," he continued pointing to the werewolf. "They were my parents' true friends. Both are alive, but need me to reach out to them. This is Mione. She signifies Hermione," he blushed a little at his companions' knowing smiles. "She is my voice of reason. This is Windpaw or Firewing. I haven't decided upon the name yet. He represents me at Hogwarts. Magic is my real home."

Neville felt curiously calm and happy. It was a beautiful feeling in the midst of these beings which were the very projections of positivity. His self-doubt cast aside for a moment, Neville felt compelled to try the charm himself. Harry had always known that a little injection of confidence and a boost to his self-belief was all that Neville would need to come into his own. The large bear that joined the five Patroni proved him true beyond all doubt.

Neville was astounded. He had always thought of himself as a poor wizard. In the moment that he had left behind his negative self-image, he had become the youngest person ever (unknown to him, and considering that Harry was living life all over again) to ever cast a corporeal Patronus. He beamed at Harry, who had coaxed him into accepting his worth a little and also convinced him that the problem was with his wand. He simply couldn't wait to tell his grandmother about this achievement. Minerva McGonagall was, for the first time as a teacher, teary eyed. Her cub had progressed in leaps and bounds, using just a small risk and a little knowledge for the basis. That he had then inspired the most subdued of her cubs had her sobbing unabashedly out of sheer happiness.

"What a marvellous display of power, you two! It makes me prouder than words can say that my wands have helped you reach into your powers and have awakened them! Mr Longbottom, it will be nine galleons for you. Thank you," he said bowing slightly as they paid. "I would request you for privacy with young Mr. Potter here. You of course can stay, Minerva."

"Excuse me, but before we leave, may I ask you all for a favour? I know this is big, but I hate it when people end up looking at me oddly when I end up doing something different. Would you please keep my Patroni a secret?" Harry asked with a look of pure nervousness, which faded when all the others nodded solemnly in answer.

When the Neville left to wait outside, Ollivander turned to Harry. "A word to the wise, Mr. Potter; a calling wand immediately bonds with its wizard or witch. Over time, it may become as powerful as your core will finally grow to be. Do not, under any circumstances, lose this wand. It can't be used by anyone else, but that doesn't make it any less dangerous. Be careful. That will be twenty galleons for you. A holster is a complimentary accessory from the shop. Thank you, and have a good day."

As he left to join Neville, Ollivander detained Professor McGonagall. "Minerva, do keep an eye on young Mr. Potter and this Ms. Hermione. If I am not mistaken, that would be Ms. Granger wouldn't she? When a person is manifested in such a clear manner along with other people, you know as well as I do what it means. She could very well be his soul-mate." With that he bowed her out of his shop.

* * *

When they returned to Hogwarts that evening, the two new wand bearers thanked Professor McGonagall and the two young Gryffindors left with a reminder to her and Hagrid about the rendering the next day. As the two scurried off to the Gryffindor tower in contemplative silence, Harry kept observing Neville. He had seen the confident Neville emerge only after the battle at the Ministry. Here, under much safer conditions, Neville had managed an incredible feat of magic before he had reached teenage. The change that this had brought about was startling. The real Neville that had taken three more years to emerge was now ready with a nervous energy as a second year student. He was even smiling widely, rather beatifically.

"Do you believe me now?" Harry asked, a knowing smile playing on his lips.

Neville looked around to his friend, conjured his bear again and then smiled widely. "Yes. I simply can't thank you enough, Harry. I don't even know what had come over me when I tried it the first time around. I had a new wand, and the immense positivity in that room made me feel almost invincible. No. That's not the right description. It made me feel as if I could achieve anything I wanted. Now that I know that I can do it, I just want to call my Patronus again and again." He was fairly bouncing on his toes at the thought. Just as they reached the Fat Lady's portrait, Neville gathered Harry in a bear hug and whispered, "Thank you brother!" It was then that Harry realised that the shy Neville had been left behind forever. The real Neville was now there to stay.

"Do not thank me, you never should nor would you ever need to. If what I believe is true, you might soon need another wand; though that probability is not that high. Get used to this one, before you decide whether or not you want the appointment I mentioned. You can tell me about it when I write to you over the summer."


	7. Chapter 7

**Sirius Actions**

* * *

Now that Harry was in possession of the real wand that he would have had, had the Horcrux not been there, he decided that it was time to awaken Padfoot. He wondered how he was going to do it. He had the chance of performing the Patronus Charm that would help his godfather. That was the sole reason for his assiduous practice. He was still lost as to what he could do to help the inmate of Azkaban. He then did what he had found himself doing a lot, lately. "What would Hermione do?" he pondered. Then the answer came to him, and without any delay, he rushed off to the library.

His objectives were pretty much clearly outlined in his mind. Sirius had to get the message that his innocence was known to Harry. He had to be informed about the plan. He then had to be kept in contact with the Patroni to allow his mind to recuperate a bit and to enable his transformation into Padfoot. The biggest challenge however, was to make the whole operation inconspicuous till Sirius actually managed to escape. Research was tedious work, and Harry wished every now and then that he could bring Hermione in on this matter. Unfortunately, she hadn't yet completely broken out of the 'respect authority and ask them for help mode' ingrained into her psyche. It was nearly dinner time when Harry finally had satisfactory outcomes for his efforts. He jotted down the spells and made off to the Room of Requirement.

He first cast the simple Patroni, and ordered them to approach Sirius in Azkaban prison. The theory was that as Sirius was known to him, and Harry remembered him well, along with the fact that Sirius was tied to Harry by powerful positive emotions, the Patroni would be able to find him directly. Padfoot the Patronus would be the first to approach Sirius as he was tied directly to the emotional link between Harry and Sirius, followed by Firewing, Prongs, Moony and lastly Mione. He then incanted, " _ **Expecto Patronum Nuntium**_!" several times over, each repetition interspersed with the simple Patroni and gave the message out to them. To ensure that the veritable army of Patroni were not lost at each successive casting, he also inserted, " ** _Sustinere Magicae_**!" after each layer of message and protection. Then he hid them all with a wave of his wand over them all and chanted, " _ **Dissimulare Magicae**_!" While it wouldn't stave off the effects on the dementors, the wardens would all be unable to see the Patronus Army. Finally with a flourish, he waved the wand over them all in a circle and drew it in, concentrated heavily on Sirius being free and happy, and incanted, " _ **Absorbet Felicitatem**_!" and then sent them off. He then produced one last set of Patroni casting all the previous charms on them, before adding, "Harry Potter **_mentis circa_** Sirius Black!" and sent them off too.

As he sank into a chair, tired by the efforts, he wondered how he was going to continue this when he left for Privet Drive. The problematic part was the physical exhaustion that would follow such rigorous spell-casting. It was going to be nearly impossible to sustain this at the Dursleys' while working like a house-el- Dobby! The answer was so obvious now that he thought of it, that Harry couldn't believe he didn't realise it immediately.

"Dobby!" he called out, and he almost had tears welling up in his eyes to see the little elf, that had died to save him, Hermione and the others not too long ago in his memory. Dobby appeared with a slight 'POP!' and looked at Harry with pure adoration and adulation. Harry was unable to control himself. He quickly dropped to his knees and nearly hugged the stuffing out of Dobby, shaking in anger and grief as he remembered the death of his elfin friend. Dobby for his part was unable to understand what had happened to elicit such a reaction from 'the Great Harry Potter Sir', but returned the hug all the same.

After a little while, they let go of each other, as Harry asked the little elf, with a smile, "How are you Dobby? Have you recovered a bit now?"

"The Great Harry Potter Sir is so noble," squealed the excited elf. "He asks if Dobby is well! How Dobby is honoured!"

"Dobby, why wouldn't I ask you about your health? You are my friend. I am naturally worried about you. The other thing is that, I want you to remember that I am Harry to you. Don't call me all the other things, I am sure that's a mouthful," he said with a smile.

"Yes, Harry Po-, Harry," replied the elf a little shyly.

"Good. Now tell me something, Dobby. Do you like being free? Or do you like being free from the Malfoys?"

"Dobby be liking being free, Harry. Dobby be wanting knows how it feels."

"Dobby, I am only asking you about this because I am worried about you, and many elves make it seem as if it is the greatest disaster of their lives. Does not being bonded hurt elves?"

"No, Harry. It is not hurting elvses to being free. Elvses be needing the house's magic to live, as we be having none of our own. Houses be gets their magic from wizards and witches work. So elvses be needing to live with a family. Wizards is not liking free elvses living in their house. So they is turns us out. It then has become a necessity for us to be bonded."

"Thank Merlin! I thought that you were going to be hurt, so I was going to ask you if you would like to be bonded to me!"

"Harry Potter be wanting to bond with Dobby? That is Dobby's greatest wish! Strong wizard bonding be making elvses stronger too!"

"But you said you wanted to be free, Dobby! I can't take away your free will. You wanted to be free, and I was only trying to ensure that you wouldn't be worse off than you were with the Malfoys. If you want to live with me as my friend, you are most welcome."

"Harry be not understands. You is wanting to help Dobby, you is wanting to help Dobby recover. You is caring for Dobby. Dobby can bond with you as family if we both is liking. That is a great honour for elvses. We is then not being slaves, but we still be having magic and having family. Elvses be wanting that the most and liking to help their family!"

"So I can have an elf-brother?"

Dobby's eyes started brimming with unshed tears as he nodded frantically, before hugging Harry's leg like a lifeline. Taking that as a yes, Harry said, "Let us bond as a family, then Dobby. But you will have to tell me. I don't know how."

"We be making cuts on our palmses and saying, 'I accept Dobby into the Potter family'. I be then saying 'I take the Potter family as my own.'"

They performed the bonding, and to Harry's great surprise, Dobby grew from the diminutive height of barely 24 inches to nearly three and a half feet. His eyes reduced in size slightly, while his ears lost their bat-like quality. He also seemed appropriately muscled. The astounded elf looked at himself in wonder, and then in a deeper voice said, "Dobby be becoming much better, Harry. Dobby be becoming happy! Thank you!"

"You don't have to thank me Dobby. We are family. Now what do we do? I truly think that you should live with me during the day and live here at Hogwarts during the night. I live in a muggle house, so there isn't much house magic, while I am sure that Hogwarts is fairly saturated with it."

Dobby agreed. Dobby's bond changed him physically, but it didn't change him much in terms of his eagerness to help. He fetched Harry an excellent, large mug of steaming hot chocolate. They thereafter chatted for a while, and Harry told the elf the truth about Sirius. This was help that had to be trusted and accepted always.

* * *

Far off, on an isolated island in the cold North Sea stood the fortress-prison of Azkaban. With a constant winter, aided and abated by its hated and feared gaolers, the dementors, it was the definition of 'frozen hell'. No warmth, neither due to the climate nor the emotional kind, could touch the inmates as they were surrounded by creatures who were the very embodiment of death, decay and destruction. On the topmost storey of this prison, the guard set by the dementors was particularly strong in number. This was the highest security area. In a cell on this floor sat a gaunt man. He was dishevelled and he stunk. The reek was not born of lack of hygiene alone, though he had maintained it as much as he could have.

The inmate, Sirius Black, stank of remorse for an action that he felt he was guilty of: abandoning his godson when he was needed by the child most.

He had suggested the change of secret-keepers that had led to James' and Lily's deaths. He had failed them. They had named him godfather to their son, and he had failed the child by going after the traitor instead of staying behind for Harry. It had been a terrible cycle of thoughts, running in a chain, only occasionally hitched by thoughts of the traitor and what he would do to him, and wondering why Moony had never come to help him. He was currently in the throes of one such cycle.

Sudden warmth started to engulf Sirius Black. He felt decidedly lighter, and happier than he had felt in years. He felt that death was claiming him at long last. Even the heat of hell would be welcome after Azkaban. He welcomed the feeling. Soon, however, he realised that he was still in his cell. The warmth hadn't left him, and was also filling him with an undeniable feeling of peace. What astounded him was that no dementors were approaching him, in spite of the happiness. That would only mean...but surely, that wasn't possible. Who would cast a Patronus at Azkaban? He peered out of his cell door. His mad cousin was still whimpering, shouting, screaming and raving. She was undoubtedly unaffected by whatever goodwill had been aimed at him. He turned around and gasped in shock. A team of five Patroni stood before him. They were friendly, definitely.

He could have recognised three of them even if he were dosed on the draught of living death. They were undoubtedly Prongs, Padfoot and Moony. The Griffin by their side was strange, yet familiar, almost as if the caster held some deep personal relationship with Sirius, almost like a child...Prongslet! The Griffin was the Potter crest, through the descent from the lineage of Gryffindor. But, Harry was only twelve! He could perform a corporeal Patronus at twelve? He had always known that the pup was powerful, but this was beyond his best hopes and belief. Then there was the equally welcome but totally unfamiliar female otter.

Sirius was unable to decide whether or not he was hallucinating. He tentatively reached out to pat Padfoot. It was then that he realised that the animals were almost _solid_. As soon as he touched them, he faced a deluge, a flood of happiness. The army that Harry had sent surged into him. Several Padfoots, Prongses, Moonies, Firewings and Miones now resided in that cell, aimed solely at Sirius Black. As soon as he reached to touch the nearest dog, they all surged into him. It made him feel indescribably happy, calm and contented. It brought more than just welcome respite from the effects of the dementors. It brought him a message from the person he longed to meet. It was a message from his godson. The words were garbled and jumbled at first. Sirius realised that the boy as yet hadn't been able to send the whole message off with one Patronus (though managing to send Patroni into Azkaban was a tremendous magical feat by itself). He meditated for nearly a quarter of an hour, inhaling and exhaling deeply.

"Dear Padfoot, I solemnly swear I am up to no good. How are you, O mighty black flea-bag? Scratch that, it was a stupid question. Now, this is His Prongslet-ness, Harry James Potter, son of James and Lily Potter, Godson to Cousin Sirius Orion Black, Honorary Nephew to Remus John Lupin, self-proclaimed hater of rats and Rat exterminator. You may wonder why I never contacted you before, and also how I managed to contact you now. Let me explain. On _that_ Halloween night, the curse skewed my brain a little. I couldn't remember you, Moony, or even Mum and Dad. I called Granny Min that after nearly two years at Hogwarts. I will tell you the whole story as soon as you're out of that hell-hole. Let me come to the main plan. I am going to get you out of there. All those Patroni are mine. I have modified the casting with intent and a couple of mind-magic spells along with a couple of conjuration permanence spells. They will all enter you, and reduce the effects as much as they can, which at the moment might not be much as I am not yet very strong. Sorry about that."

"Damn it, Prongslet," murmured Sirius. "That is more than enough power to last me a week."

"Now, the sheer number of Patroni I sent means that you will feel better for at least five days. I know I am asking too much of you, but please practice your Occlumency and transformation to Padfoot in these five days. The longer that you will remain Padfoot, the longer will the Patroni have their effect. I am feeding you my happiness, while the Patronus link will transfer some effects of the dementors to me. Worry not, old mutt. I have plenty of chocolate. I also have the Malfoys' old house-elf caring for me after I freed him from them. Did I mention that I got Lucius arrested? The more important news is that I have found _the Rat_ , if you get my drift. He has been in my dormitory for the past two years, sleeping as a pet.

"Now, you may want me to immediately go and alert someone in authority. I am doing nothing of that sort.

"Getting Lucius Malfoy arrested means that I have got Fudge against me. His pet toad, the Senior Undersecretary called Dolores Umbridge is particularly friendly with dementors. Getting any orders to free you will mean an investigation into what you mean to the Potters, and I fear she may just leave the door open for the dementors. No. We'll be pulling a spectacular prank on the Ministry, and Dumbledore by extension. Term ends on Saturday, today is Tuesday. Elf-magic will help me get past the trace. I'll send you another Happiness Hamper on Sunday. Make it through the next two weeks that way. The family that _owns_ the traitor will be going off to meet a son who lives in Egypt. I'll send you a message after their departure. Make your move then. And remember to move only after Fudge's annual inspection. You'll slip past the dementors as Padfoot. They can't sense animals well. Do not be hasty. Adhere to my plan. Once you are free, come to the mainland, and call for Dobby, the Elf. Your password will be 'Death to the Rat'. He will bring you to #4, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey. Yep, the Dursleys. Do not laugh at the end of this message. Do not draw attention to yourself. If the Patroni effect weakens, I will feel it and send you more. Try being Padfoot for as long as you can. Looking forward to meeting you, Dogfather! As an aside, I will confirm that you aren't hallucinating."

For a man completely deprived of any emotions bar dread, regret, sorrow and anger for twelve years, the past twelve minutes had been literally life-changing. He had gone from being delirious with every ounce of negativity to bursting with happiness at the very thought of his godson believing him. He marvelled at Harry's power and magical ability to manage not one, but five corporeal Patroni at an age of barely thirteen. Then there were the Patroni themselves. Sirius had only been filled with that much elation once before, and that was the day he had held the baby whom he pledged to protect with his very life. The joy of his animagus form being one of the pup's Patroni was indescribable. Then he felt a little disappointment that said godson was doing the protecting.

A part of the message came back to him. "...the curse skewed my brain a little..." If Harry had taken twelve years to remember him, two years of direct contact with Minerva McGonagall to remember her as Granny Min, it surely meant that he hadn't been treated for the effects of the curse. That made Sirius very angry. The fact that he was feeling the anger in spite of the Patroni reminded him the more important parts of the message. Somehow, the pup had managed to protect him in whatever way he could, and had given Sirius a way out of Azkaban. Granted it was going to take tremendous Gryffindor daredevilry and recklessness to execute it, but there was a plan in place all the same. Harry was not asking much from him. Just to hold on with the knowledge that he had found Peter; that Sirius' godson knew he was innocent, and most importantly with the knowledge that he had planned a big prank on the Ministry _and_ Dumbledore. Sirius smiled for the first time in twelve years. The successor to the Marauders was going for the spectacular, and was banking on the experience and inputs of the previous generation. That was after getting a Death Eater arrested as a second year. "Occlumency and my animagus transformation, was it, pup?" mused the prisoner. "Well you want it, you get it. Padfoot shall ride again!"

* * *

The following days were a breeze for a revitalised Sirius Black. Azkaban no longer held the same power over him that it had held for twelve years. Twelve years he had spent alone in a cell, believing his innocence when no one else would. Now there was one more person who believed him, and that was the very person whose belief meant the most. The unbelievable bonus was Harry had also found and recognised Pettigrew. Every now and then, he did feel a twinge of anger that it had taken the pup twelve years to remember him. He then shame-facedly pushed down the thoughts. The pup had been there for him when nobody else deigned to remember him. The pup had helped him as soon as he had been cured of whatever problems a killing curse caused apart from killing the victim. The pup had done more than Moony and Dumbledore - and even her. He had been given another chance at life and a plan to clear his name. That was above and beyond anything he could've done at seventeen, let alone twelve. No. He wasn't going to grudge the only person on his side, however much the dementors tried to affect him negatively.

He practiced assiduously, so that by Friday, he had managed to transform into Padfoot completely. He started nosing about the cell door, checking around for the dementors. He realised that he was thin enough to slip through the bars. He soon took to creeping out of his cell through the darker areas to avoid being spotted by the other inmates. The Patroni effect meant that the dementors actively avoided that area. He was still reluctant to take too many risks. He worked relentlessly on his mental shields so that all his bad memories were sorted off while he was still aided by the Patroni. He shuddered to think what would have happened if he had done that without help. Over a period of just five days, Sirius had gone back mentally to having spent eight years in the prison. He had gained more of his sanity, or whatever passed as such for Sirius Black, and was already seeing the fruits of his godson's plan. He resolved to stick to it with a 'Grim' smile.


	8. Chapter 8

**Secreted Chambers**

Why is there so much effort going into freeing Sirius when he could previously escape on his own? Sirius' first escape was more of the 'woman lifts a car to protect her baby' kind. Here he is being helped because he is needed beyond his escape as more than just a father figure. Heavy cliche warning.

* * *

Soon after he had sent what he called the Happiness Hamper to Sirius, Harry returned to the common room. Ron, Hermione and now a rather (compared to his old self) boisterous Neville were sitting in a corner, and Harry automatically made his way to them. As soon as he saw Harry, Neville scooted away from Hermione and vacated space for him to sit next to her, all the while grinning impishly. Harry responded with a nudge to his ribs as he sat down. Neville's wince was covered as a terrible attempt at twisting himself a bit. Hermione observed their byplay with narrowed eyes, while Ron remained blissfully oblivious.

Harry knew that he was going to be interrogated. If it started, he was going to take them to the Room of Requirements. Sure enough, it was Ron who started off. "Harry, mate, why did you need to buy a new wand? I mean, yours was working well and was new, so it's not like you needed it or anything."

"I knew that this was going to happen. Come with me, I will explain everything. Not here though." He led them back to the Room and accessed it. It was a perfect replica of the Gryffindor common room, barring the seating arrangement. There were four chairs arranged around a small table in a corner with the rest of the space was left open.

"Okay Neville, firstly, I must tell you a secret. Only two more people are yet to know the secret. Ron and Hermione already know." He then explained nearly everything about the scar Horcrux, (but did not call it a soul-piece; he just told him it was the darkest necromantic magic) what happened in the chamber of secrets, Dumbledore's plan for Harry and finally the arrest of Malfoy and Harry's destruction of the scar. By the end, shy, laidback Neville was cycling between being aghast, being angry and being plain shocked. "Now you know what dark magic in my scar I was talking about. Well that wasn't my only connection with Tom Riddle. You see, Fawkes, that is Dumbledore's phoenix, gave two tail feathers for use as a wand core. The two owners of the wands are..."

"...Riddle and you!" completed Neville, his eyes widening in dawning comprehension. Suddenly, Ron looked rather sick about the whole matter.

"Exactly. The wand stopped working very well for me. I had a legitimate fear that the wand had chosen the piece of Voldemort in my scar and not me. I was proven right. Neville and Granny Min saw as the new wand bonded with me. It was as if it was a part of me, long lost, that I had found again. What say Nev, should we show them?" Neville responded with an enthusiastic, resounding "Yes!"

Allowing him to go first this time, Harry egged Neville on. Neville grinned broadly, and taking his usual practice stance, cast the spells of the past two years on the practice dummies that the room provided, with Harry following suit, each of them enthralling their small audience with the show.

At the end, Harry fidgeted a bit nervously, for he didn't want a confrontation this early, and spoke to Ron, "Well, Ron, I know you needed a wand too, but I think we need it as proof for Chief Bones if she decides to investigate Lockhart. I have a nice surprise for you, so I think you may like to buy a wand after that."

"Damn! I forgot I needed a wand in the first place!" Ron's answer left them in peals of laughter.

* * *

The following morning after breakfast, three heads of House, Headmaster Dumbledore, seven Weasleys and all the five victims, Neville, Luna, Hagrid, Amelia Bones and Amos Diggory who was the head of Control of Magical Creatures joined Harry in the Headmaster's office as they waited for the Goblins who would be arriving at half past ten. Goldsack, the chief of rendering services and his seven associates, as well as Bill Weasley (on personal request; Harry had insisted that they Floo call him or Charlie at the very least) were to join them. At the stroke of the appointed time, the party from Gringotts arrived, arrayed with their equipment.

"Mr. Potter, as regards your claim to the Basilisk that you have supposedly killed in the fabled Chamber of Secrets, we would like verification before we proceed with the rendering. Do you agree?" Goldsack's tone was as formal as it was coloured with disbelief.

"Yes Beast-master Goldsack," replied Harry bowing low. "I understand the incredulity that a renowned warrior race as yours might feel. I request permission from those assembled to draw my wand and swear upon my life and magic." When he had the express permission of all those present, Harry raised his wand and swore, "I, Hadrian James Potter, of sound mind and body, do hereby swear upon my life and magic, that I have killed the Basilisk residing in the Chamber of Secrets and have used the Sword of Gryffindor for the same. So I say, so I swear!" A flash of light surrounded him to accept his oath. He then decided to cast the Avis conjuration charm (this time he wanted nothing more than to show-off, which he did successfully as everyone looked at the eagle he conjured).

As the audience gasped at the display of magic, Harry turned back to Goldsack. "Beast-master Goldsack, I have proven my claim to the wizards. Now I must satiate the honour of the esteemed Goblin's question. I request you to use any means necessary to verify my claim." This entailed signing a document with a declaration to the same effect as the oath with a blood quill. Harry sincerely wished that he hadn't asked what would have happened if he had lied. Apparently, the Goblins had managed a way to administer effects similar to the Cruciatus Curse through a quill.

He led them through the school to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. Commanding in Parseltongue, he opened the entrance and then asked for stairs. The party descended down to the small obstruction made by the old snake skin.

"Mr. Potter," said Chief Bones and Mr. Diggory in unison. "The snake was that long?"

"No. It was old shed skin. Beast-master Goldsack, if you would be kind to evaluate it at the end of our work in the chamber, I'd be highly obliged."

"Mr. Potter, even the verified claims of killing a beast as large as this would gain you the title and courtesies of warrior in the goblin nation. It will be done."

"Thank you, Beast-master."

Dumbledore cleared them a path around the rock-fall. They finally reached the door which led to the Chamber. Harry commanded it to open. The responses were all varied and immediate. Ginny clung to her mother and father, while her five elder brothers and a sobbing and nearly hysteric Hermione had locked Harry in a group hug so tight that he was sure that he was going to pass out. Justin actually did pass out. Professors Sprout and Flitwick had their knees buckling and were barely able to stand. Dumbledore, Luna, McGonagall and Neville joined Hagrid in staring at the 63-foot long poisonous green beast.

The silence seemed to last interminably. Harry was soon passed on to the quartet of Colin, a revived Justin, Penelope and Hermione (who refused to let go of him, and had his arm around her, clutching it so hard that Harry was sure the blood had forgotten to flow). Suddenly, the two boys hugged him hard, and stepped away shaking his hand. Penelope bent and kissed Harry on both cheeks and the forehead. That reminded him heavily of Fleur, causing him to blush. If he had seen Hermione's reaction to this, he would have painted his face whiter than Luna's hair. Hermione Granger, self-proclaimed buck toothed, bushy haired know-it-all had felt the first stirrings of jealousy when it came to one Harry Potter.

At long last, the silence barring Ginny's subdued sniffles was broken by Goldsack. "Mr. Potter, I severely underestimated your worth, and also that of the beast that you have slain. Indeed, Goblins have certain views about Wizards holding on to Goblin handiwork even after the death of the one for whom the item was crafted. The Sword of Gryffindor is such an item. Do you know why we do not look kindly upon Goblin-made items being passed on as heirlooms?"

"No, Beast-Master. I have only heard of the belief, but never known the reason."

"Goblins craft items only for those deemed worthy. Gryffindor was deemed worthy of the honour to wield a sword crafted by our ancestors. Worth, honour, integrity and valour are not passed on as heirlooms. Why then should the mark of a Goblin's respect be passed on thus?"

Harry, who in the previous timeline had been swindled out of the Sword's possession by Dumbledore, and then Griphook, saw the way the Goblins thought of wizards in a new light. "I never thought of that. Thank you for the explanation, Beast-master. I however, am at a loss as to where our conversation leads."

"Patience, Mr. Potter. To Goblin eyes, the Wizards' claim on the Sword of Godric Gryffindor was relinquished upon his death, never mind the fact that it wasn't returned. It however, stayed within the school he set up, to aid it in times of need. It came to you. The Goblins who made it had imbued it with the magic to know the next one worthy of the honour to wield it. You have won its allegiance. It will now come to your aid when you call it, whatever the wards or distances that may separate you."

Everybody in the Chamber apart from the Goblins was amazed. Harry though was flabbergasted. So he had only to call the Sword? He could have used it so much earlier in _that_ timeline, he seethed mentally. Dumbledore needn't have complicated matters. He just did it because he thought he knew best. He turned to the goblin. Last time, he had run afoul of them. This time, he would show them trust and honour them and get them on his side.

"Then, Master Goldsack, I would have Gringotts hold it in the safety and honour that the Sword deserves. The makers have been kept from their fruit of labour for long, and I would not have it said of me that I ran afoul of the warrior race which bestowed upon me a great honour. Should I need it at times of such or greater need, I shall be at peace, knowing that it comes from the security of goblin wards and vaults." Then quickly realising that it could be misconstrued as a rejection of the Sword's choice, he continued, "Do not consider this a rejection of the honour of being chosen by Goblin magic imbued in the Sword. I have learnt in the short time I have spent in the magical world that trust, honour and integrity are not as common as I would prefer them to be. Such qualities exist within the sanctuary of Gringotts, and I would pledge my honour and trust to the same."

The surprise and wonderment that these words evoked was visible on many faces. It was just a tad late on Dumbledore's face. He had first checked around for others' reactions. He was however, frowning internally. How had Harry known what exactly to say to Goblins? He was forming a relationship with them based on mutual trust and respect. Yes, they would be wonderful allies, no doubt, but Harry should have been bewildered and rejected any claim to the sword out of modesty. That would have left him open to guidance for interactions with the goblins, now that it was no longer imperative for him to die. Minerva McGonagall and her co-Heads of House, particularly Flitwick, were extremely proud of the way Harry had handled himself. He had used his knowledge of goblin values and morals and respectfully laid out the terms of the possession of the sword, at least for his lifetime. Though it was a matter of dispute of property where the school was concerned, by the magical laws that governed such choices meant that Harry had the right of decision. That he had used the situation as a bargaining chip to bring the Goblin Nation on friendly terms was not lost on the three Professors, something that Professor Flitwick explained in detail to the others in private. Amelia Bones and Amos Diggory were impressed. The Potter boy had held his own while facing an extremely taciturn and easy to offend being. The look on the goblins' faces showed that he had managed to impress them too. That was going to be a major victory, should the time come for more interactions.

Goldsack was similarly in new territory. A wizard, though largely ignorant of goblin customs, had used what little knowledge he might have accrued in a day to understand the proper manner of speech while accepting the honour. He had also passed the Sword of Gryffindor back to the goblin nation, even though it was for safekeeping. There was the fact that the Sword had chosen him, and yet he entrusted it to the Goblins, not in the manner of offence born from ignorance, but as a mark of respect. The Goblins as a warrior race valued their weapons and the hands that wielded them. To know that a wielder was entrusting them for the safekeeping of such a magnificent weapon was a great sign of trust. Normally, the goblins wouldn't part with their weapons, and would look down upon a warrior doing so. The wizard facing him though, was an adult only by deeds, though not by age. A child as he was, it was no dishonour. Moreover, he hadn't laid down the sword in battle, but had merely recognised the makers' rights. The Goblin Nation would be well advised to keep a keen eye on this young human. Goldsack decided then and there to report this personally to the Director.

The rest of the party remained quiet as they considered the exchange. Those in the know about the story behind the scar were able to find the stark differences between the Harry of before, the one with the scar and the new Harry. This model seemed wiser, more confident and almost... _cunning_. Very few would have used the situation to their advantage, gaining some respect from the Goblins yet not truly returning the Sword to them despite entrusting it to their care by invoking the tenets of their banking system. A lot had changed. They all felt a little unsure about how they were supposed to behave around him. Then they realised that while he had changed in the way he dealt with situations, that didn't mean that he had changed when it came to them. Well, he hadn't changed much, beyond being more caring and more attuned to them. It was almost as if he were anticipating their thoughts. The more they saw, the more they were left feeling as if they were solving a jigsaw puzzle with seemingly infinite pieces and several of them being missing.

Harry meanwhile had a request to Goldsack. "Master Goldsack, if I may make a little request?" At a nod from the goblin, he continued, "The Sword that helped me slay this beast was goblin made. In spirit of the aid that your nation thusly provided, I would ask that four daggers be made from the creature's fangs, one for your leader as a part of his regalia, one for the clan of the maker of the Sword, one for yourself in lieu of your efforts and one for Hogwarts to be wielded in defence of the school. Please notify me as to the costs, and you have my assurance that the same will be adequately covered. Please consider this a gift from my side." He then bowed deeply.

Goldsack grinned in response, and the set of pointed teeth that this displayed reminded Harry forcibly of a shark. "Mr. Potter, you seem destined to be in the good graces of the Goblin nation. We accept your offer. I must say, the Director will be pleased, very pleased indeed, to hear this." He then set about to the task of rendering the basilisk. It was a truly gory sight. Taking the goblins' leave, the people stood to a side in such a way that they would not have to see the process. It was then that Bill spoke to Harry.

"Mr. Potter, I am-"

"Bill Weasley. I know. Please call me Harry, as the rest of the family does," he completed for the older man, shaking his proffered hand.

"So Harry," grinned Bill, "do you know what has just happened?"

"Er...no?"

"I figured as much. You see, Goldsack said that "the Director would be pleased to hear about this." You'd know, at Gringotts, the Director is only notified when particular jobs or customers are a remarkably lot of trouble, or have honoured the Goblin Nation in a way that even the Director, who is effectively the King of Goblins the world over, has to sit up and take note of it. To be in his good graces means that you are considered to be friendly to the Nation. That is just a step away from being a Friend of the Nation."

"Blimey!" exclaimed Harry. "That's brilliant!"

"So it is. Now," he said, beckoning Percy, the twins and Ron around to him, "when the brothers charged with looking out for our little sister failed miserably, and that includes me, you have risen to the fore. We were going to thank you anyway for that. But now that we have seen the enormity of the danger, in every sense of the word, we feel that mere words of thanks will not suffice. You have the right to call a Life Debt and Debt of Honour on the Weasley family. We will all be honour-bound to serve you," he stated solemnly.

Harry observed the people around him. Ron looked a bit disinterested and also a tad bit mutinous. Percy and Bill were both wearing their best formal faces. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley as well as Ginny were looking at him expectantly, though Harry knew that the expectations of the two ladies and Mr. Weasley were decidedly different. The twins looked unusually grave. The other adults only nodded in encouragement, while the victims all kept a distance, deeming this to be a personal matter.

He looked at Bill with his jaw set, and replied, "Bill, Ron and the twins rescued me from the hellhole that I have to call home each summer. When I lived at the Burrow, it was the happiest I had ever felt in my life, outside of Hogwarts, and beyond what little I remember my parents. The Weasleys have treated me as family. By extension, I failed my sister too, by not looking out for her. There can be no debts between members of a family. I said this before, and I'll say it again. Ginny had five brothers at Hogwarts, and our failure to look out for her meant that the situation escalated to this," he said, waving his hand around to indicate the Chamber. "I can only promise that we will make sure that this never happens again. Though as a curse-breaker, your input regarding finding and destroying the... er... You-Know-Who's You-Know-Whats would be welcome."

Bill heaved a sigh of relief as he smiled. "You are a good man, Harry." He clapped him on the shoulder. His brothers too smiled and shook Harry's hand in turn. Harry furtively observed Mrs. Weasley and Ginny. They were looking positively miffed at this turn of events. "And as to the other matter, I believe it may be a part of my further training. Though I may not be at a liberty to share my knowledge, I can at least pass the word to my superiors under confidence."

"Thanks. Bill, did Mr. Weasley tell you about what I suggested about taking advice from a mind-healer?"

"Yes. We'll be going to Egypt at the end of the week after next. We will seek help there. Here it will cause unnecessary fear among parents of Hogwarts-bound children. It was a very wise suggestion, thank you for that."

"Never mind, Bill. It is another testament to how we have collectively failed our little sister," Harry said, a bit dejectedly.

"You are too hard on yourself, Harry," interrupted Dumbledore. "If there is something I have experienced in my life, it is that failing family is the worst regret of all. You were there to help her at the end of the day. More than can be said in m...some other cases." He had a faraway look in his eyes, suddenly seeming older than even his years meant. Harry realised that he was still caught up about Arianna.

Amelia Bones was still bothered about Harry's comments about being rescued from the Dursleys. She asked him about it, catching him short.

"No-nothing, Chief Bones. Please don't bother yourself with such trifles."

Fred interjected, "When we had to pull off the bars from your window, and mum had to feed you enough to make you not look starved, we knew it was no trifle. Tell her!"

"Mr. Potter, as Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, I will say this is an official investigation into a matter of child endangerment. I order you, as I am well within my rights to do, to tell me the whole truth."

"Chief Bones, will it be alright if I show you the memories of my life at those things that I am supposed to call relatives? Besides, it no longer matters. They don't hold any power over me anymore," he said. "I am not s-sure that I want to speak about it, and I am q-quite sure that you will find me dis-disgusting when you see them," he muttered in an undertone, which wasn't caught by anyone else. Seeing the reluctance Harry showed while speaking, Chief Bones nodded, even as Dumbledore paled.

Professor McGonagall, meanwhile, with the proper Scottish temper said, "You will not be going there this year if I can help it. Albus, I told you not to keep him with them. You never even checked up on him, did you, you presumptuous old sanctimonious fool?"

"Minerva, he has to, even if it is only for two to four weeks, for recharging the wards. I think we all have enough evidence now that Voldemort is not dead." His placating tone would normally have worked, but he was now talking to a woman whose maternal instincts had been awakened at full flow.

"Yes I know, Albus. I also know of your plans regarding Harry. I have seen that with my own eyes! You will have no say in this!"

"Please understand, Minerva..."

"Both of you," interrupted Chief Bones, and then looking at Harry, continued, "and anyone else with enough information are going to apprise me of the situation. As the Head of Department of Magical Law Enforcement, any information about the potential return of such a terrorist who was long believed to be dead, it is essential for me to know it. This will be need to know information and will be classified as such. You, Dumbledore are not going to assure me anything, nor are you going to feed me your Greater Good drivel. Moreover, I will be making a decision about Mr. Potter's residence during the summers."

This would interfere heavily with his plans, and Harry wasn't going to allow that. Turning to them all, he said, "Chief Bones, please allow me to handle this. Two weeks trying to survive in that terrible place will harden me well. Muggles have summer camps where they send their kids to see the rough side of life, though, by that they usually mean roughing it out in the woods. Well, two weeks will be alright for me." _**(**_ ** _Inwardly he mused, "Wizards have got Azkaban. I have Privet Prison. The Dursleys seem to be my relatives, though I have never thought them to be so, nor do I consider that place home. But that's alright for two weeks. I will go off to other places after that, and Professor Dumbledore who seems to think that he owns me, will never have a say in where I live for the rest of the summer. Two weeks is also long enough time to pull non-magical pranks on them. They made my life hell; I will now show them what hell really means.")_**

"Now, though, I will hone my skills with muggle pranks on them. I have Marauder genes in me, so I will have fun. After all, they will now be meeting the son of Prongs," he said loudly, hoping that the twins got the hint, which they did.

Kneeling theatrically in front of him, the twins started their special conversation routine. "Oh Mighty slayer of Basilisks!" started Fred. (Harry was sure because he had managed to spot the differences between the twins after George had lost his ear.)

"Oh twice worthy scion of coolness!" continued George.

"Oh snake talker!"

"Oh Silent Prince of Mischief-land!"

"We are not worthy, O son of Prongs! We bow to you!" they exclaimed, continuing to kneel and bow theatrically.

Adopting the manners of a Royal, after taking them aside for a bit of privacy, Harry replied loftily, "Arise, good brethren, keepers of the faiths and principles of the realm of Mischief-land; that hold true to the name of Prongs and his friends! We are pleased with your salute, but shall have need of your attention after our business is finished, pertaining to the heirloom left to us by Our noble ancestors! You know of course, of the treasure that we speak of!"

Minerva McGonagall was nothing if not a formidable woman. The mention of the son of Prongs, and the Weasley twins' exaggerated salutes to her boy had her shuddering involuntarily. Harry coming into his own as James' son was one thing. To have that much pandemonium to manage again was going to be difficult for her at her age. "What are you three scoundrels talking about?" she asked sternly.

Harry answered for them, to keep the topic away from the Dursleys. "Respected Elder, a minor inconvenience was encountered by Our brave and wise Regent-knights, Sir Fred and Sir George. They held in possession a Potter family heirloom to prevent its destruction. We are indebted to their initiative."

"You, young man, will quit these theatrics in my presence. Let me warn you, should I catch you in any behaviour like the hellion James was during his early years, I will spank you right and proper, am I clear?"

"Yes Granny," drawled out Harry dully, to snickers and sniggers from the rest.

* * *

Hermione was watching the memory of Harry stabbing his scar along with the others as Amelia Bones was explained that they had only now found conclusive evidence of the existence of Horcruxes. With nobody supporting Dumbledore's opinion as far as hiding the matter from Chief Bones, and in fact with both Professor McGonagall and Hermione offering their own memories of what they had seen, he had no choice. As she watched her best friend stab that accursed scar, she attached herself to him and held on to him painfully tightly. Harry had a sneaking suspicion that she feared that he would disappear if she let go of him. He didn't complain though. It felt very nice.

When they finally exited the pensieve, Chief Bones looked at Harry with incredulity, awe, guilt, compassion and probably anything more in that spectrum. Then without warning, the usually uptight and rather prudish woman showed a side of her that only her niece had seen before. She quickly gathered him into a hug and patting his head, said, "Oh, you poor boy! I hate myself now for celebrating You-Know-Who's fall, even as little as I did! So much pain endured in so young a life!" Harry immediately stiffened- something that she did not miss- but was unsure as to what he should have said, so he just patted the woman on her back awkwardly. When she released him, Harry realised that of all the people, only Hermione, Moony and Padfoot were allowed to touch him or hug him.

"It is okay, Chief Bones. At least now it won't be like last year when my scar hurt in his presence."

"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN BY LAST YEAR?"

Harry winced as her bellow almost burst his ears. Ignoring Dumbledore's interruptions, he told her everything about the Philosopher's Stone fiasco. He then proceeded to show her the full memory. By the end of it, Chief Bones was seething.

"You are coming to Gringotts with me tomorrow Harry. Can I call you that?" She was answered with an enthusiastic nod. "We are going to destroy the Death Eaters before he can return. Seven Horcruxes! How could he even conceive the notion? And you Albus Dumbledore! What business have you making an eleven year-old face _him_? How, was _he_ even allowed to be in the school? Why did you put _those_ things in a school behind simple locking charms? We will be having a long discussion about this Dumbledore! That is notwithstanding the fact that you did not contact the Department of Mysteries! They could have found a way to remove that soul leach, if they didn't know one! They have studied magics from across all continents and they may have even had a solution. I know you'll cite the example of Rookwood and the like, but maybe after two or three years when matters had settled? You didn't even monitor him properly. Who gave you the right? You are an abuser yourself! We could have started hunting for those things a decade earlier! It could have helped put creatures like Malfoy behind bars!

"Now, you are going to show me the memories of the muggles," she ordered, imperiously.

"Please Chief Bones! Not now! I will send them to you by owl. I don't want to remember it now! Please!"

Seeing the obvious pain it was causing Harry to even remember the Dursleys and their treatment of him, she let the matter go, but made a mental note to pursue it, no matter what.

Albus Dumbledore sighed. He was finding himself embroiled repeatedly in situations where he couldn't bring up an argument in his favour. He tried to remember the times when people would treat his word as law. Perhaps too many secrets being revealed and too many skeletons in his cupboard tumbling out had turned people against him en masse.

* * *

When the students later convened in the Great Hall for dinner, Harry passed a paper for McGonagall to read and announce. It required the presence of Penelope Clearwater, Colin Creevy, Hermione Granger, Justin Finch-Fletchley and Ginny Weasley along with their parents at Gringotts on Saturday at five in the afternoon after they would be alighting from the Hogwarts Express. She also had a message to carry to any living relatives of Myrtle. Since Harry didn't know her real name and it wasn't really kind to call her Moaning Myrtle, he just left it at that. With a conservative estimate of the Basilisk's worth being around seventeen and a half million galleons, Harry had a plan. He was going to bring Moony back out of poverty. The man had lost too much in the previous timeline, even after Harry had finally found a semblance of real family with him and Sirius. This time, he wasn't going to let Moony live out the rest of his life like a pauper. He had several more plans, and his eyes fairly gleamed with excitement as the announcement was made. He personally requested Granny Min and the Headmaster to be present with him that day.

Hermione recognised what he was up to with the announcement. It was surely about the compensation, and she really didn't like the idea of benefitting from the money generated by the sale of body parts of a beast, particularly, the beast that almost killed her Harry. "Her Harry?" she questioned herself. It was not a very subtle change in the way she was looking at her best friend. She had never thought herself to be among those girls that thought about boys that way. She brushed the idea aside. After all, she reasoned, she _was_ a teenage girl. She wouldn't allow such thoughts to deviate her from her education. Her mother had told her that though it was perfectly normal, some people could become obsessed over a person. She wasn't going to fall in that trap. Or so she thought.


	9. Chapter 9

**You'll never know that I broke into your bank...(Buttering up the Bitter)**

* * *

The following morning saw Amelia Bones accompanying Harry to Gringotts, armed with all the memories of his past encounters with Voldemort. The last time that Harry had been here, it had been in the other timeline and had ended up disastrously. He had ended up in a major fight against the Goblins, and had had to escape the bank on a guard dragon. This time around, things were markedly different. His actions though seemingly spontaneous, were carefully planned and the results were there for him to savour. As soon as he entered, he was greeted by, for the first time in his memory, smiling goblins. Those who were on guard duty, bowed to him and smiled wider still when he bowed back. Harry grinned to himself. With one of the most potent powers in the magical world on fairly friendly terms, he was pretty sure to have a much easier time with the Horcrux in Bellatrix's vault, if nothing else.

Chief Bones had specifically asked for the Bones' account manager, Senior Accounts Manager Hightab and the Potter account manager, Senior Account Manager Goldhaul for a meeting along with a representative for Gringotts as a whole. As she had given them an intimation regarding the nature of her visit and the delicate nature of the subjects to be discussed while also mentioning the fact that a young Wizard who was in the Nation's good graces would be accompanying her for the same, the meeting was scheduled for and arranged in a very highly secretive manner. She was still extremely surprised when a retinue of guard goblins came out after Hightab and Goldhaul. She quickly stood up recognising that it was a very high ranking official, and such an official commanded respect from the ministry, however grudging. Harry followed suit.

Nothing though prepared either of them for the arrival of Lord Director Ragnok, Emperor of the Goblin Nation, Chief of Gringotts. Harry who had only heard about the goblin in passing was struck by the royal regalia and the markedly different physique. He was much taller and certainly older than the rest. Arrayed in black Goblin robes of acromantula silk trimmed with gold with a deep purple cape, his eyes showed both his age and the experiences he must have had. The Sword at his waist, girt on a belt along with what was unmistakably a Dragon-tooth knife, and a shield of specially crafted Goblin silver slung across his back, with several sets of runes etched on it were his simple but evidently deadly war accessories. He wore knee high dragon hide boots that clung tightly to his feet, almost like a second skin.

Not knowing what to do, Harry assumed what might be the behaviour of lower ranking guests at the Royal Palace and decided to go ahead with it. When Ragnok entered the room and walked towards his throne-like chair and sat, Harry knelt on a knee and with his right fist over his heart, and his head bowed, solemnly intoned, "His Majesty, Lord Director, honours us with his esteemed presence. Would that so be that this mere wizard has made any breach of protocol out of awe at his Majesty's splendorous presence, one humbly begs His Majesty's pardon." He kept his position, unmoving and fixed.

The Director was suitably astounded by this custom, but had known that the Wizard showed the proper etiquette, if not always the proper protocol. It was evident by his actions that the wizard was paying him respect in a manner that was probably common with Wizards. He probably knew no better, and that was still the best he had ever seen from the magical humans. He wanted to know, though, how the wizard had recognised him, despite the fact that neither he, nor his adult companion who seemed confused by the wizard's action, had ever had a chance to have seen him. "Rise, Wizard. We find your salute adequate. We would know how you came to recognise our position and office."

Looking straight into Ragnok's eyes, Harry answered without missing a beat, "Lord Director, this wizard has trained himself to observe over years and years of practice. His Majesty has, please pardon the expression, a distinctly different physical structure from the other Goblins, yet not so different that would make His Majesty seem too different to human eyes. The war regalia, which at this time, is doubtless but a part of the full paraphernalia commanded by His Majesty's stature, is also distinctly different to what one has otherwise seen. One had a glance at the shield which bore another mark apart from the Gringotts coat of arms; another peculiarity not seen on the accessories of any other goblin working in any department, leading to the conjecture that it could be the esteemed coat of arms of a family. What little this wizard knows of Goblin customs states that all Gringotts goblins consider themselves under the aegis of their Lord and Emperor, and pledge their professional loyalty to His Majesty and the bank. As the Goblins are a warrior race, one could extend the conjecture to theorise that battles also fall under the heading of professional loyalty - thus, the recognition, Lord Director."

Harry assumed his position of standing at attention. For several long moments, the Lord Director stared at Harry with an inscrutable expression. The silence stretched out so long, that Harry was sure he had bollixed everything up and was going to lose his head and manage to kill Hermione (in a way) and Chief Bones to sweeten the bargain for the Goblins. It was taking tremendous amount of reckless courage, never mind foolish bravado to stare down the Lord Director. Then without warning, Ragnok broke into raucous laughter. After a second or so of bewilderment, the others in the retinue followed suit.

The Time Traveller schooled his face into a small hint at a smile but nothing that he knew it was appreciated, he smiled at the risk paying off. He knew he was laying it on a bit too, **_too_** , thick. The objective was to butter them up, and now that he knew he was valued due to the basilisk business, he had an ace in his cards. He was looking out for himself and those he cared for, first and foremost. The Magical world could burn for all he cared, barring his allies. He needed business after all. If that meant making allies of the Goblins, and becoming a part of the system which controlled the liquid assets, he would do his best to at least appear to contribute in the way they liked. This was, after all, true neutrality, which he had to observe till he achieved what he wanted to. Butter everyone up till nobody maintains a bitter disposition towards one. Everyone was out for the same at the end of the day, weren't they? It would be a wonderful thing if the rest of the magical world benefited as well, but he had no altruistic motives to that end.

"Oh! We like this one. A complete change from the foolish humans we deal with on a daily basis, don't you think? Polite and observant, that's certainly more than can be said for the average wizard. You are fearless too, come to think of it. You do not smile or laugh, do you Wizard?"

Deciding that it was a calculated risk, Harry replied, "Your Majesty, this wizard and his adult companion stand in Your Presence, in Your Bank. One would not be so presumptuous as to smile or laugh without Your Majesty's express permission."

"Clever. Goldhaul?" called The Lord-Director.

"Yes, my Lord?"

"Is this one the client of yours?"

"Indeed he is, my Lord."

"Be proud of your charge, Goldhaul. The wizard is a credit to the name and vaults that you manage. We bestow on him our pleasure. Yes, Wizard, you may smile."

Harry relaxed a bit and allowed the barest but a definite smile to adorn his face. He nodded to Goldhaul and Hightab and they took control of the rest of the proceedings.

"My Lord," started Goldhaul after a brief bow, "Please allow me to introduce my charge for management of accounts, the last of the Potter line, Scion to the Ancient and Most Noble House of Potter, Harry, son of James. He requests audience to divulge sensitive information about the terrorist Voldemort, formerly known as Tom Marvolo Riddle."

Hightab seamlessly took over. "My Lord, please allow me to introduce a member of the family that is my charge for management of accounts, Regent of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Bones, Lady Regent Amelia Bones. She is here to accompany Mr. Potter in her official position as the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. She is privy to the information Mr. Potter wishes to share and is here to advise him."

"Very good; arrange seating for the honoured guests. Is there anything more that they would require?"

Harry piped in, "Begging your Majesty's pardon, but we have with us some memories that we would need to show you. The Headmaster of Hogwarts has a Pensieve. If we could be directed to such a device to provide our proofs, it will be an aid of great measure."

Ragnok gestured to one of his retinue, who promptly brought out a cube of sorts and instructed Harry to pour the memories into an orifice on the cube's top. With a nod, the boy thanked the goblin. Turning back to Ragnok, he said, "We are much obliged Lord Director. We thank you for your patience, time, and resources. We are ready to proceed at His Majesty's convenience."

And so it started. The Goblins watched the memories in order. They watched the killing of the basilisk and the destruction of the Horcruxes, both the diary and the scar, again and again in a loop, before staring at Harry in unabashed wonder. Goldsack was called, and he gave his report of Harry's actions and words during the rendering. The face of their Lord did not change. In fact he had schooled it into a totally neutral expression. He then watched the memories again, this time in ultra-slow motion. He then spoke something in Glenskrad (which was the correct Goblin name for their language, unlike Gobbledygook like the Wizards called it) while an assistant made note of whatever he said, and then hurried out of the room, only to return with what was unmistakably a ritual bowl and a short, sharp knife. Given that the bowl was much smaller than his head, Harry felt reasonably sure that he was not going to be beheaded.

Reverting to English, Ragnok said, "Few wizards in the shared history of both our peoples have shown valour, wisdom, respect and commitment to family and justice. We are pleased, to have lived to see such a Wizard in Our life. I remember that Our Father, Lord Director Ralcon, had told us about an ancestor of yours, Caerwyn Potter, who had been one such wizard sometime in the fourteenth century by the day count of your people. The Potter line is indeed remarkable that it should have another wizard such as you adorning it. By the Powers of Lord Director, We name you Goblin Friend, and also honorary goblin. Come, Friend Harry Potter, share the Ritual of Blood with Us."

To say that Amelia Bones and Harry were surprised, was akin to complaining that the Sun was probably hot. Knowing that he couldn't keep Ragnok waiting, he hastened to comply. Goldhaul also added his blood to the bowl, all the while chanting in Glenskrad. Finally, Ragnok spoke again, "Rise, Harry, Scion of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Potter, son of James. Henceforth you shall be known at Gringotts as Goblin Friend Griffinheart!"

Giving the Director a warrior salute and respect, Harry replied, "With great pleasure and honour, I accept this boon bestowed upon me by His Majesty, the Lord Director. I shall strive to be a credit to both my birth name and the name that His Majesty has given me. So magic will judge me!" A soft glow surrounded the ritual bowl, leading to tremendous cheers from all in the room. Amelia Bones, ignored by them all for the most part of the day, smiled to herself. She had come to Gringotts, hoping to develop a better relationship with the Goblins using Harry's standing with them as a basis. Instead, she ended up watching a ritual that smoothed things out with them beyond her wildest hopes. "Goblin Friend, _and_ Honorary Goblin," she mused. Well things were certainly looking up.

Harry, on the other hand, was alternating between marvelling at his luck and the honour itself, and seething at Dumbledore for keeping information from him and those better placed to deal with the Horcruxes and Death Eaters. The war could have been totally avoided in the previous timeline, and so many deaths could have been avoided. "Greater Good is a load of bollocks, mixed in dragon dung and drenched in drain water," he thought, "The senile old fool didn't understand that destroying Death Eaters now meant that whatever hit the economy would take could be smoothed over gradually. Dealing with that along with several deaths was totally debilitating to the magical world." He spoke out this thought aloud to the Gringotts goblins, only to find them grinning at him in a rather malicious manner. He soon found out that the malice wasn't directed towards him, though the grin was.

"Griffinheart, you may be an honorary Goblin, but We have to ask, is there some Goblin blood in your veins? Few will think the way you do. You have thought about destroying the enemy before the war comes. That is this bank's philosophy. Take no prisoners. We would like you to explain what you meant to say, better," ordered the Lord Director, using Harry's Goblin name.

"My Lord, one of the memories that His Majesty has just seen clearly states that Tom Riddle intended to make seven pieces of his soul. My scar being an accidental soul leech, we could say that he succeeded in making more than one for sure. One would think it to be highly probable that such repetitive soul-splitting caused the accidental soul-leech, due to the remnant of his soul being totally unstable. So he has the means to come back; should that happen, he will attempt to control resources, with the money from his loyal Death Eaters. The first tenet of the magical world that one learnt was this: Hogwarts and Gringotts are the two safest places in magical Britain. It goes without saying, then, that he might have placed two of his soul anchors in these two places. Tom Riddle himself has no vaults at Gringotts. That means a Death Eater's vaults will have to do." This was sensible, thought the audience. Goldhaul bid him to continue.

"Which Death Eaters were perversely loyal enough to do that? The Lestranges or the Malfoys surely are. Now, Lucius Malfoy attempted the killing curse upon me when I implicitly proved that he had placed the diary device at Hogwarts through an unsuspecting student. Tom Riddle would not put all his eggs in one basket. So Malfoy vaults are out of the question. But, he is the richest Death Eater. Destroy him financially, and we would have already crippled the Dark Lord before he returns. One can only theorise at this juncture, but if a ward detecting the Dark Mark was erected at the entrance of the Bank, then by the treaty between the Ministry and Gringotts, shared culpability and common intent can be invoked to check the vaults of all Death Eaters, free or not.

"The next part of the plan puts severe risk to goblins, and one can understand if it is severely rejected. If the vaults have any Dark objects, it makes the banking agreement with the customers null and void. That will have to be informed to the individuals personally, but only after they are present at the bank. Many of them are foolish and arrogant enough to draw their wands inside the Bank. That's not the goblins' mistake if there is retaliation as stipulated by all agreements, is it? Essentially, the Death Eaters are either introduced to poverty, or the blade or time in Azkaban. Most importantly, they will be introduced to the concept that those who hold their money make the rules."

This speech was followed by nearly a minute of tense silence. As the silence stretched out, Harry started perspiring a bit. If this idea had been offensive, he was done for. Then, without warning, Chief Bones started laughing, and was soon joined by the goblins. Harry stared uncertainly at them all in turn. He had expected objections, he had expected angry words, he had expected the worst, but he most assuredly hadn't expected laughter. He just stood there bewildered. As the laughter went on and on, he finally asked his companion, rather mulishly, "Chief Bones, if the plan was so foolish that you felt you had to laugh, you could have stopped me while I was speaking, you know."

Having realised exactly _where_ she had lost control, Chief Bones quickly apologised to the Director. "Lord Director, I apologise for my impropriety. I lost control when I heard the plan."

"Lady Regent Bones, do not worry. As We asked you, Griffinheart, are you sure you have no goblin blood in your veins? The very Death Eaters that you seek to destroy, were the ones who had some of the laws that we can use, passed, with an aim to cleanse their names while destroying others with planted evidence. They were the dishonourable thieves and pillaging terrorists. It is very clever of you to use their own laws to own them. Are We articulating your thoughts, Lady Regent Bones?"

"Very much so, Lord Director - though as a witch who attended Hogwarts, I would be more inclined to call it a Slytherin way of destroying one's enemies."

Having relaxed by now, Harry decided to try a little levity, or whatever he felt could pass as such in the situation. "Well Chief Bones, the Sorting Hat did want to put me in Slytherin. Only the blonde idiot Malfoy made me go against the Hat's choice."

"Griffinheart, We agree to your plan, though We would say that taking such action against all of them simultaneously would cripple the economy entirely. We would start with you out of the way. We think that We could sanction such action after the start of the school year for you, thereby ensuring your security."

"Thank you my Lord. Your consideration of this matter is most generous."

"Do you then, have any other matters that you would like to discuss, Griffinheart?"

"No, my Lord, we have imposed upon your valued time too much already."

"Then We would adjourn this meeting, and deem it a success."

"Thank you, my Lord. I believe the correct greeting is ð May the Lord's reign see the destruction of the enemies and prosperity to business ð"

"Very good, Griffinheart – you use Glenskrad. You need to improve your grammar however. That will come in time." With that, the Director left followed by all the goblins, leaving Chief Bones alone with Harry.

* * *

As she side-along apparated Harry to Hogsmeade, Amelia Bones had to struggle and fight to keep her head and not laugh like a madwoman. Years and years of advising Fudge and Dumbledore to make better contact with the goblins without response from either of the two had left her unprepared about how to react when things finally went the way that she needed them to go, and not _knew_ or _believed_ they should be. As soon as they reached Hogsmeade, she stumbled and sank onto her knees in the middle of the road and started sniffling and laughing all together. Harry looked at her very curiously as he tried to work out how exactly an iron-woman like Amelia Bones had lost it. He wondered if those that were present to arrest Sirius felt such a perverse fascination with the laughter of a person clearly not in control of their emotions.

"Chief Bones? Chief Bones are you alright? May I call Madam Pomfrey? Do you need help?" He tried shaking the laughing woman to no avail. Deciding that she wouldn't take too kindly to being levitated back to Hogwarts, Harry helped her to the Three Broomsticks, explained to Madam Rosmerta that he was going to try and get help, where luckily, Aberforth had made a rare excursion from the Hog's Head to a competing institution. As he waited patiently for help to arrive, while Rosmerta dosed Amelia with something strong to calm her down, Harry thought about the day. By all measurements it had been a success.

Dumbledore, Mr. Weasley and Hagrid all came to the Three Broomsticks with the thestral drawn cart. Harry observed that he could see the Thestrals. They gently lifted Chief Bones into the cart and set off.

As they waited in the infirmary for Chief Bones to be woken from her magically induced sleep, Harry thought about the various changes that demarcated the two timelines. First and foremost was the damned Horcrux in his scar. He still couldn't believe how free he felt with that abomination gone. Without it, he could now think, actually, properly think. He wondered whether in the previous timeline he had just coasted along, hitching a ride on Hermione's smarts and Dumbledore's orders. He realised that he had.

He had taken to sorting his mind well, and as per Cassiopeia's suggestion, decided to look at the whole Weasley-Dumbledore situation without the knowledge regarding the family's fealty oaths. That had led to a revelation. The Weasleys meeting him was probably a set-up. How could Mrs. Weasley forget the platform number after attending Hogwarts for seven years and then sending five children off? Even if she had always used the Floo to get to the station on the magical side, why then did she use the portal to the magical side the times that she was with him? He knew he couldn't distance himself based on that, but Ron and Ginny had destroyed what real love he could have found with Hermione out of their wants and jealousy. He wasn't going to give Ron any chances now. The boy was sure to have a blow-up sometime or the other. He remembered what he had thought about his friend when he had come to this timeline. But the redhead's behaviour thereafter wasn't really nice, now that he thought of it. It was almost like he took Harry risking himself for Ginny granted. No. Ron Weasley was on his last chance, though he didn't know it. It would take a spectacular blow-up, but it would be the last one that Harry would bear. After all, as Harry reminded himself once again, he was a 'future rapist'.

The more important change was the situation with Sirius. By feeding him some happiness and telling him Peter's whereabouts, Harry was reasonably sure that Sirius would once more engineer an escape (even though he had been force-fed the plan). Fudge had been taken down a notch, Malfoy struck down and Amelia Bones was on his side. But then he remembered the most horrendous of Fudge's lackeys, Dolores Umbridge. He needed a plan to destroy her. How many mundane-born had she killed in the last timeline? He remembered the hard time the media and the Ministry had conspired to give him in the fifth year. The ministry had used the media to destroy his credibility. Hmm ...that was a worthy idea. He would now turn the tables. One Rita Skeeter would be introduced to the joys of contract based investigative journalism. He could threaten her about the illegal animagus form, then reel her in and sweeten the pot for her. That would be done when Harry would escape from the Dursleys. The litany of his to-do things just went on and on. But there was too much at stake here. He couldn't afford to relax.

Then he thought of things that he had taken care of. Luna and Neville were two people that should have had his attention much more than he had given them last time. This time, he had already taken some steps to bonding with them. Neville, now newly infused with confidence and the ability to conjure a corporeal Patronus, was now in a much better state of mind, and more importantly trusted Harry. He was going to teach Luna the charm too. But he would only do that the next year. There had to be good reason to do that. In the interim, he was going to write to her and Neville. Ms. Ginny "Obsessive Fan-girl" Weasley had been struck down for the time being, but the tacit support of her mother was still a problem.

Then there was that stupid prophecy. Given the senile old man's proclivity towards hiding information from his own people, Harry couldn't really bet for sure that he had told James and Lily Potter about it. So long as Dumbledore didn't mention it, neither would Harry. He wondered why Dumbledore wasted so much time guarding the prophecy when instead the work of hunting and destroying Horcruxes could have started earlier. The more he thought about the matters, the more he questioned Dumbledore's actions and motives. Why did he put up a production of the memories as special lessons when he could have just called Harry one Sunday, showed all the memories and then discussed it with him? There just were too many questions. Repeatedly mulling over the O.T. gave him a migraine.

Finally, he had to think about what he wanted with Hermione. He understood all the subtle signs of love that did exist in both timelines. It truly was for her that he had returned. He was still in a quandary. What was the boundary between showing her that he loved her, and being pushy? Also, when was he going to defeat Voldemort once and for all? It was something else that Cassiopeia had mentioned. He had to find the family magic Grimoire. He checked his thoughts as he went off tangent. Hermione. He wasn't going to risk her this time. She had sacrificed too much. There would not be any sending the parents off to Australia with their memories modified. She was far too precious.


	10. Chapter 10

**Disbursements**

 **A/N: Even though the chapter is mostly serious, there is a crack element with the absurd amount of money. What do people do with money? Just distribute it after working hard for it? Here DMLE take my money? Nah...**

* * *

About two and a half hours later, when Chief Bones was done discussing the events of the day with Dirk Creswell (the Head of Goblin Liaison; Harry remembered that he had died on the run along with Ted Tonks), Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall (who was present because Harry expressly requested her presence), the adults were still astounded by the scope of what had been achieved in terms of human-goblin relations. To have a Goblin Friend, and then to have an Honorary Goblin amongst them was a huge success, given that they had to prepare for Voldemort's return. When Chief Bones told them about the way Harry had suggested for destroying the Death Eaters, he saw Dumbledore cast him an extremely odd look, a very cold calculating glance. Professor McGonagall on the other hand, for the first time in Harry's memory, grinned.

"So," started Creswell, "Mr. Potter, or Griffinheart, how was it that you knew how to behave around goblins? I find it particularly interesting that a mere second year could accomplish what you did."

Harry looked at the adults in turn and considered Creswell intently. Then he replied, totally tongue-in-cheek, "Well, Mr. Creswell, I don't intend to be boastful, but a mere second year ideally shouldn't be able to kill a basilisk either."

"I see. So you wilfully intend to avoid questions without telling any lies."

"I have no such intention. If you must have a satisfactory answer, then consider this. The mundane world gives respect to the Queen. She is by rights, the Queen of the magical government too, by the way. I just treated the Lord Director as I would treat Her Majesty. I just respected the honour, truth, and values of goblins and also respected the Lord Director as you have seen. I find that being honest and respectful takes one far. Unfortunately," (and here he deliberately looked towards Dumbledore, straight in the eye, with an accusatory look) "such integrity and strength of character is not common in the magical world. Does that answer your question?"

"I would say so," answered Creswell slowly, not missing the byplay between Headmaster and pupil.

"Good. If there is nothing that I am yet to be asked, may I please be excused? I have yet to pack and the train leaves tomorrow at eleven," Harry replied evenly. He had no intention of being interrogated by anyone. "Time, after all, is galleons."

"Spoken like a goblin," muttered Creswell, as Chief Bones seeing the gamut of expressions on Dumbledore's face quickly allowed Harry to leave.

When Harry joined the others in the common room after another hour, having packed, then cast a baleful glance full of hatred at Scabbers the rat and then checked everything once again, he realised that he was going to be subjected to another round of interrogation. Neville, who had now firmly and rather easily attached himself to them, the twins, Ron, Percy and Hermione were sitting by the common room fire, waiting for Harry to tell them about the day. Harry figured that Percy was there solely because of the company that Harry had had of Amelia Bones and Dirk Creswell, both senior heads of departments in the Ministry. The twins had been around since they had seen the basilisk, with George remarking that if rescuing Harry from the Dursleys meant Harry killing a damn beast to protect one of them, they would do the rescuing every year. Neville meanwhile had perhaps understood the real scope of what Harry had faced and just told him that he was happy that Harry had got out of that damned place alive. Luna had echoed his sentiments, albeit with tears in her eyes. She had only now got a new friend, who probably was a very old one getting reacquainted. She kept wondering what it would have been like without Harry actually coming after her to talk to her and extend his hand of friendship genuinely. She hadn't come out of her shell at all, and yet displayed such emotion, that Harry wondered what she really had endured all year long.

"So," started Ron, his eyes narrowing in a way that made Harry feel that the blow-up had come much earlier than expected. "How is it that Harry Potter goes into Gringotts, speaks what he thinks and comes out unharmed?" He then grinned to remove the effect of any chastisement, and Harry breathed a sigh of relief. He wondered how many days he would have to tread around Ron on eggshells.

"Ah, human, about that you are sorely mistaken. As far as Gringotts is concerned, within its walls, Harry Potter doesn't exist..."

"WHAT?" came the exclamation from a multitude of voices.

"...without express request. The human, yours truly, is known inside Gringotts as the honorary goblin Griffinheart," completed Harry with a smirk.

"Bloody hell! Harry! They made you an honorary goblin?" Neville had only heard about extraordinary circumstances always having Harry involved, but this was the first time that he was observing from very close quarters.

"Goblin Friend Hadrian James Potter, and within Gringotts Goblin Griffinheart, are my new identities as far as Gringotts is concerned. Apparently I am the second in the family to be honoured thus. An ancestor, Caerwyn Potter was the last wizard who was so honoured, sometime in the fourteenth century. He had a daughter who married Marcus Longbottom," he said, grinning at Neville as he said the last part.

"Damn. What's it with your family, mate? You end up getting the best bargain," Ron interjected, petulance gradually colouring his voice. Harry decided to cut his losses at once.

"Yes, but the bargain, as it stands, has me without a family and with relatives that I would let anyone call my family over my dead body," he retorted sharply, causing Ron to flush.

Hermione saw that Harry's nerve had been touched, and decided to diffuse the situation. "Why don't you tell us what happened in detail?" It caused Harry to wonder how she knew when he was getting angry enough that she would need to run interference. Smiling at her in gratitude, he then told them all about everything that had taken place at Gringotts, including what and how he had said whatever he did. He however, made sure not to divulge anything about the plans regarding the vaults of the Death Eaters. As a goblin, Harry had the right of secrecy over matters discussed inside Gringotts, and had classified that particular discussion as such. Chief Bones saw it as an opportunity to pay Dumbledore back in kind and to thumb her nose at him, and had readily agreed. As he ended, he made sure to give Percy a nudge against Fudge, while he still had currency with the third Weasley brother.

"You know, there was something odd about the way that the Goblins thought of the Ministry. It was almost as if different departments were individual entities to be trusted or not. They clearly trusted Chief Bones, but when she mentioned the Minister and his Undersecretary, they were decidedly malicious. When Goblins become malicious towards somebody, it usually means the end of the person, at least financially. Maybe, for the Minister and his Undersecretary, it could also be the end politically. Not that it is surprising. Fudge was shielding Lucius Malfoy after all." Seeing Percy's eyes widen first in anger and then in understanding meant that Harry had gotten his point across.

"How did you know what and how to speak to them?" questioned Hermione.

"I didn't. I just imagined how I would speak if I were a half-ignorant person brought before the Queen of England, attempting to be formal. It's just my luck that it worked."

"And if it hadn't?"

"Then the Lord Director would have channelled his inner Red Queen," replied Harry with a smirk.

"Who's the red queen?" asked Fred.

"A muggle fairy tale character," replied Hermione impatiently. "What did you mean by that, Harry?"

"Well, what's her favourite order? "Off with his head!" isn't it? Is it so improbable that the Goblins wouldn't have resorted to that?" asked Harry, his eyes crinkling around a smile.

"DON'T YOU DARE BLOODY JOKE ABOUT THAT HARRY JAMES POTTER!" screamed Hermione suddenly, catching them all short. "Please. Not right now. I am not yet ready to hear jokes about that from anybody." She stalked off to the girls' dormitory in a huff.

"What's the matter with her?"

"I don't know, mate. She's been lecturing us about the goblins, their warrior and violent tendencies and their strictness about adhering to customs since you left this morning. I haven't seen her that jittery even before an exam." Ron contemplated on his friends' behaviour, while the twins looked at the departing girl and Harry in turn, before crowing in unison, with suddenly widened eyes. "Harry! You got Hermione to swear. This calls for a celebration! Harry Potter: managing all things out of the normal since 1981!" They all laughed at this proclamation, even as Harry replied loftily, "Of course not. I am a Potter. Potters don't do normal."

* * *

When they alighted from the express the next day, Percy was glowering at Harry, who only smirked at him. He had very innocuously told the twins about Percy's girlfriend, Penelope Clearwater, with the effect that the two along with Ron, Harry and Neville had spent the rest of the journey teasing their elder brother, while Hermione and Ginny glowered and huffed in annoyance. Luna simply sat with a beatific smile, watching their antics. Harry watched her every now and then, and decided that she was just happy to be included. He had known what Luna had become in the other timeline, a formidable witch with a way with her wand. He was going to be proactive. He let her pet Hedwig for some time. In fact, apart from Harry, the owl seemed extremely comfortable with Luna alone. Harry decided that he would be writing to both Luna and Neville over the summer.

The party consisting of 4 Creevys, 3 Grangers, 8 Weasleys, 3 Clearwaters, Harry, Dumbledore and McGonagall reached Gringotts around quarter to five for the reading of the bequests from the rendering. Goldsack and Goldhaul had both agreed to be present at the reading. While they were all surprised at the salute that Griffinheart received and returned when they entered Gringotts, it was nothing compared to the greeting that Harry gave the two goblins they were to meet.

"ð Goldsack, Goldhaul, a pleasure to see you with profits for all. May your vaults flow with gold and your enemies quake at the sound of your names ð," Harry said to them with a thin smile. The two returned the greeting.

"Harry, you know Gobbledygook?" asked Dumbledore, unable to fathom the puzzle that was Harry Potter without the 'Horcrux'.

"Professor!" retorted Harry sharply. "The name of the language is Glenskrad. Not Gobbledygook, as the wizards have named it. Yes, I can speak a few words, and I will be learning it better."

Goldhaul, who knew the underlying tensions between the two, decided that it was best to move on to the reading. At his prompting, Goldsack gave an overview of the monies generated from the rendering and sale of the basilisk. Basilisks were exceedingly rare, and as such, the prices of body parts harvested from basilisks were never controlled. Inflated prices were quoted to ensure that money that exchanged hands could always be traced to prevent unscrupulous buyers from getting their hands on the items. It was not just the venom, but the basilisk hide, which had been converted to armour for the Aurors (Chief Bones had used up her sanctioned money from the Ministry budget, but it was an investment in her view) that had been a large contribution to the sale. The meat was useful both as food and as traditional medicine used by Goblin healers. This particular basilisk had generated lots of meat which was very well-matured. The eyes though destroyed still had useful parts for wand-making. The skeleton had been bought by the Magical Museum for a very large amount. Gringotts, upon request had ensured the legitimacy of the buyers. Harry was ceremonially presented the four fang-daggers to distribute as gifts. The sum total of the proceeds came to be seventeen and a half million and four hundred galleons, while the four daggers collectively cost four hundred galleons as Goldsack told Harry, grinning widely (and hideously) all the while. Harry realised what had happened, so he simply shook his head and grinned back.

Harry had decided on a plan for the distribution. He still had the bequests for Moony and the relatives of Myrtle to be distributed in absentia. It was best to get the whole business out of the way as soon as possible. After the introductory remarks by the goblin regarding the sale, the proceedings were handed over to Goldhaul who would be speaking on Harry's behalf.

"Welcome all to the final reading of bequests from the rendering of the basilisk killed by Hadrian James Potter, hereafter alluded to by goblin customs as Griffinheart. The conquest yielded money which will be distributed as seen fit by the conqueror of the beast. Hear ye all, for now I read the proceeds and provisions as allowed by the victor, to whom all spoils of the victory rightfully belong.

"To Mr Flinch-Fletchley, Justin; to Mr. Creevy, Colin; to Ms. Clearwater, Penelope; to Ms. Granger, Hermione; the bequests allow the provision of one million galleons. As was requested, ten percent of the amount will be held in trust in vaults in your name. Forty percent will be invested in various companies, magical and mundane, with ten percent of profits being collected by Gringotts as brokerage, with the remaining ninety percent being deposited to the trust vault. The remaining fifty percent will be deposited in a family vault, with a magical house bearing the family name being established. As the beneficiaries are mundane-born, it was requested that the rate of exchange from magical to mundane currency be stated. The current rate is 35.496 British Pounds to the Galleon. Are there any disputes against the bequests?" Judging from the identical looks of disbelief and the open mouths of the beneficiaries, Goldhaul surmised there weren't any. They simply couldn't have. They had just been made multimillionaires.

"To Mr. Filch, Argus, a sum of fifty thousand galleons was awarded as compensation for the temporary loss of his familiar. As Mr. Filch, a squib, has no living magical relatives, he cannot enter the bank. As such, the bequest will be awarded in absentia, and shall be passed to the Headmaster of the institution where Mr. Filch works.

"A further three hundred and fifty thousand galleons are bequeathed to Mr. Hagrid, Rubeus; this individual was falsely implicated in this case and suffered a stay in Azkaban. The victor, Griffinheart, hopes that while such suffering cannot be forgotten, Mr. Hagrid can move forward and re-establish his life. A similar condition as to the handling of the bequeathed amounts as for Mr. Filch has been decided. Both the individuals have been informed of the same through official Gringotts channels to ensure that there is no misappropriation of funds on the part of any of those involved. To Hogwarts, a similar bequest of two hundred and fifty thousand galleons has been made and the money has been deposited to the school account."

Dumbledore turned green at this penultimate statement. He wondered how he had allowed the situation to reach such a state, where Harry had no trust in him to even handle money. He realised that Harry probably hadn't been joking that day in the infirmary, as he had then claimed. It had simply been a measure to ensure that their differences were not aired to other students. He chanced a glance at the boy in question. Harry was sitting with an impassive face with his attention unerringly directed towards Goldhaul. This was something new. The Harry he knew wasn't so inexpressive, and indeed was impetuous with both his expressions and actions. The reading of bequests had shown that the whole distribution of money had been well planned.

"To the Auror Department, pending psychoanalytical tests, honour vows and veritaserum verifications regarding the loyalties of every Auror, as well as at least an active deliberation about the use of strong curses and hexes to put the opponent out of battle, for a long time if not permanently, as well as bringing the Aurors up to speed on non-magical warfare and physical combat techniques (it was still a goverment; this part was not followed before the Department of Magical Law Enforcement started using the money. Like all typical governments, even the magical government needed several requests, petitions and reminders), a donation of one million galleons has been accorded. Moreover, Mr. Potter has advised Gringotts to study and set up the magical equivalents of the Government Investment Bonds as are seen in the Non-magical world. Apparently these are ways in which public money is invested in and spending power is controlled by the Government, in lieu of tax exemptions."

Harry stepped in here. "Master Goldhaul, I think I should explain this bit. I have found over the two years that I have been back in the magical community, that the creation of monies, funds and profits legally is something that magical humans are too lazy to do. In the muggle world, various Government bonds place money with the government as a fixed deposit scheme, often without interest. The government acts as the entity that invests this money into various stocks and companies and uses the profit for its expenditure. The individual primary investors get tax exemptions."

Amelia was over the moon. For far too long she had to make do with the flimsiest of budgets. Now she was getting a donation of roughly five times her annual budget, as well as none too subtle hints regarding how she could increase her budgets. If this continued, she would be pushing to make this kid the Minister of Magic as soon as he reached of age. Hell, she would betroth herself and Susan to him if she could get away with it. However, she thought sadly, he was too young. And given the circumstances, it would be wrong on her part.

"To the Weasley family, as reward for the role of Mr. Weasley, Ronald, and as compensation for the victimisation to Ms. Weasley, Ginevra, a combined bequest of one million, five hundred thousand galleons has been made. Of these, seventy percent has been tied up in investments with ten percent profits to be accepted by Gringotts as brokerage, while the remaining four hundred and fifty thousand galleons have been deposited into the Weasley family vault. The victor invites comments from the beneficiaries upon this matter."

Arthur Weasley decided that day, that he now had three separate incidents to be grateful for the very presence of Harry Potter. After saving their world, and then his daughter, the boy had now given him enough money to live comfortably with his family for the rest of his life, and also that of at least three generations to come. He had effectively taken care of his children's educations and so much more. If nothing else, he had to convey his thanks. The investments were something that he didn't understand and he wished to get that clarified.

"Thank you, Senior Account Manager Goldhaul. I take this opportunity to thank our benefactor, Mr. Potter, the goblin Griffinheart. It is tremendous kindness shown to us after the incomparable valour he displayed while saving the daughter of House Weasley. Indeed, the bequest is worth more than the total value of the properties and holdings of our House. I would request clarification regarding the matter of investments as I am unfamiliar with the idea in a practical sense." That was euphemism for 'I have not had enough money to invest, so I am unsure how this will work.'

"Very good! Mr. Weasley, it seems that Griffinheart had anticipated this question. As our non-magical friends will also attest, investments are holdings in money-making corporations. You basically lend money to them and part of the profits that they gain is paid back to the investor. It is a very legal manner of increasing one's holdings. As a goblin, I am proud to say that Gringotts has always achieved profits on the portfolios we manage." The enthusiastic appreciation he received for the boast made the normally surly goblin slightly happy.

"The remaining money has been distributed by the victor in a very particular manner, and he would personally like to declare it."

"Nark-groog, Goldhaul. I hope that all of you are satisfied with the provisions. The following declarations are important to me personally, and as you all are my friends, I would like you to have foreknowledge of this. Please understand that I will ask for an Oath of secrecy on this matter. Should any of you find it unnecessary to attend this declaration, you shall be excused." Penelope's parents had to leave and so did Justin, but both thanked profusely as they left.

"Very well. Firstly, there was a deal to pay Gringotts five percent of the total income. This would have amounted to eight hundred and seventy five thousand galleons. I regretfully wish to state my intention to renege on this clause." Ignoring the mutinous looks on the goblins' faces, and the shock on those of the humans, Harry continued, "I find the pay inadequate. In good faith, I would increase the amount to one million galleons." He looked around to Goldhaul and Goldsack who nodded in acceptance and appreciation.

"I bequeath seven hundred and fifty thousand galleons towards the care and cure of my Godmother, Mrs Alice Luciana Longbottom, nee Dearborn, and her husband, Mr. Francis Gerald Longbottom. They shall be avenged when the time comes, but till then, I would settle for them being cured. Any means, magical or mundane may be employed.

"To the Quibbler, I hereby wish to make an anonymous donation of five hundred thousand galleons through discrete channels.

"Two hundred and fifty thousand galleons should be placed in trust. They should be disbursed as mini-loans from the House of Potter to worthy business proposals at a fixed interest rate of ten p.c.p.a. through Gringotts' official channels, at the discretion of Master Goldhaul. This money should be used exclusively for that purpose, with no part being used for investments. Ten percent of all interest accrued will again be paid to Gringotts.

"I also hereby announce the Charlus and Dorea Potter Memorial Scholarship for Muggle-born or Muggle-raised students that are economically underprivileged, or abused for having magic, or similarly disadvantaged. I believe my grandparents would have wanted such a provision for the betterment of our society. I propose a fund of two and a half million galleons to be used for this purpose, with investments and profits being used on a recurrent basis. The scholarship will be awarded at the discretion of Professor McGonagall, who usually introduces the new students to the magical world, and therefore has maximum contact with their families outside of Hogwarts.

"I propose the establishment of the James and Lily Potter Memorial Institute for Research on Lycanthropy. A fund of three million galleons, with forty percent held in investments and the rest to be used for research materials and for providing vocational training and Wolfsbane Potion to registered Werewolves. The intention of the institute will be the research of the condition of lycanthropy and rehabilitation of werewolves, at least for self-sufficiency and on a long term basis, to eradicate the discrimination and poverty that the community faces. I'd like to invite Professor Minerva McGonagall, Manager Goldhaul, Professors Pomona Sprout and Filius Flitwick, and acclaimed Potions Mistress and private healer Mrs. Andromeda Tonks, as well as the inventor of the Wolfsbane Potion, Damocles Belby for the honorary operative decision making board, should they accept the invitation. Should they not, I request them to suggest worthy replacements. As I have no means to contact either Potion Mistress Tonks or Potion Master Belby, I would ask Professor McGonagall to be the proxy convener. At no point, should any employee be found to bear the Dark Mark, or hold more than three offices. If she accepts, Professor McGonagall is exempted from the rule regarding offices.

"Of the remaining income, I claim one million galleons. These should be deposited in the Potter Family vaults, with no access for me to the money till such time that I claim the Head of House position. A further two hundred and fifty thousand galleons should be used for the reconstruction of the Potter Family home in Godric's Hollow, for placing on a retainer the services of the law firm Greengrass, Doge, Tonks and Associates; and for any further requirements as shall be intimated via post. This concludes the public reading of the provisions. I now request Professor McGonagall to remain seated. The rest may be excused. I thank you for your time and patience."

Albus Dumbledore watched as a confident Harry took control of his life little by little, placing himself outside the old man's manipulations which in truth were far from subtle. For anyone observing from the outside, it was just a young boy taking mature decisions and seeking advice for dealing with any situations he might end up embroiled in. To Dumbledore, it was simply another sign of an irreparable tear in their relationship. The mention of the house in Godric's Hollow, special restrictions on the two trusts for public good that he had started which purposely excluded both him and Severus from taking any position on the boards of those trusts. He had hoped that Harry would trust him enough to take him to his destiny. The Horcrux wasn't something Dumbledore had been well equipped to deal with, but every single accusation levelled against his callous handling of Harry's situation rang true. He sighed. Perhaps with Harry, the Dumbledore way wasn't the ideal solution. He would have to open up to the boy in some ways. He would have to work himself back into Harry Potter's favour. He would have to climb down from his high chair. He left but decided to make one last pitch for Severus. He didn't believe Harry would allow it, but he had to try.

When they all left, Harry read out the last bequests. "The last provisions are for Mr Lupin, Remus and Ms. McGonagall, Minerva. Mr. Lupin's account, should it exist, should be credited with one hundred thousand galleons. Otherwise, arrangements should be made to ensure that he gets the money via the Potter accounts. Similarly, Professor McGonagall should be bequeathed two hundred and fifty thousand galleons. That concludes the reading of bequests."

Harry then passed on a note for the Goblins to attach to Moony's letter from Gringotts and made provisions to hold the remaining 1.1 million galleons for Myrtle's relatives. As they left, Minerva asked him, "Why did you leave me money, Harry? How did you know about Remus?"

"Granny Min, again, I remembered Moony after that scar was gone. He is one of my Patroni, don't you know?" As the woman's eyes widened in comprehension, he continued, "As for the money I left you, well, think of this as my practice will. As far as I am concerned, the Dursleys were never my family. I have only found out that you are my family very recently. I haven't gotten through a year at Hogwarts without being mortally threatened. If my luck finally runs out, I will at least know for now, that I've made provisions for my family members whom I genuinely care about. You aren't getting any younger. Think of this as my way of ensuring a very fruitful retirement for you; though if I have anything to say about it, you will be teaching your great-grandchildren at the very least, before you retire," the last being said with a wink and a roguish grin.

The old Transfiguration Mistress felt tears brim into her eyes as she heard his explanation and then saw the wink-grin routine that James had perfected during his time at Hogwarts. Oh, how she hated the Potter men for that! She remembered him telling her something similar barely months before he had died. The very thought made her freeze. She then did something that she had done only once before. She hugged Harry tightly, before holding him by the shoulders at arms' length and peering straight into his eyes. "You, Harry, aren't going to speak about anything like that. Promise me that you won't take any risks anymore! I am not being stern right now for nothing. Damn that money! I'd always keep you!"

Harry in turn was very much moved too. In either timeline, he had never seen the woman that expressive before. Perhaps with the conditions of the Vow fulfilled, he was seeing the real Minerva McGonagall. "Granny? Where do you live during the summers?"

"Oh, I live at Hogwarts for the most part. McGonagall cottage near Dundee is my home for a very small period of time. It does get very lonely there."

"Dumbledore wants me living at the Dursleys for three weeks, doesn't he? If I get the House at Godric's Hollow rebuilt in that time, can we live there as grandmothers and grandsons should?"

The small kiss on his forehead and another hug he got from his beaming Granny Min was all the answer that he needed. As they came out to the waiting area, Dumbledore accosted Harry. "Harry, my boy, I think you should consider a suggestion from my side. Severus is also an acclaimed potions master, and as such would be useful to the work related to your attempts at understanding lycanthropy."

Harry saw through the 'suggestion' at once. "Thank you for your advice, Professor. Since eradicating or at least controlling the disease that is Lycanthropy, and helping those afflicted is a very important task, I'll appreciate all help in this matter. I think that you should suggest Professor Snape's name to the operative board. If he is eligible after stringent testing for the compliance with the rules, he will be most welcome," replied Harry pleasantly.

Dumbledore sighed. It was another battle lost. He very well couldn't explain to Harry, why Severus was important in spite of being a Death Eater, nor could he tell the boy that Severus was one in the first place. Harry hadn't even refused the offer but he just had ensured that Severus wouldn't work for the Institute indirectly. By graciously accepting the suggestion and advice, he had even gained the upper hand.

* * *

Away in Cambridge, a mousy brown haired man with more than hints of gray flecks sat reading a message that had been delivered by owl. He had wondered why he had received an official owl from Gringotts. He had never borrowed any money from the bank, nor did he have any rich magical relatives that could have left him something in their wills. As he read through the letter, his eyes widened progressively while he tried to imagine who this mysterious benefactor was that had shown him such largesse and at the same time tried to get his head around the enormity of the sum. When he read the source of income, he almost passed out. Who had he helped so much that they would remember him after slaying a basilisk? The benefactor had added a very curious line: "It's a gift, Mr. Lupin, so don't you dare try and return it. Get yourself out of whatever decrepit conditions you might be living in, and get a nice new wardrobe for yourself at the very least." This was James' or Lily's language without a doubt, he thought. As he flipped the letter over, he wondered out loud his very thought. The effect it had on the paper shocked him to his very core.

 ** _"_** ** _Mr. Firewing is extremely disappointed with Mr. Moony and bids him to remember his Marauder roots and would ask the furry, mangy self-pitying idiot to at least remember the password for the map. He asks Mr. Moony to close his mouth and use his wand, the real wooden one he got from Ollivander's, not any other, if he gets the drift. He thinks Mr. Moony still has his head up his furry arse and has lost the ability to think logically twelve years ago."_**

Remus Lupin read the message and then showed such alacrity to act upon the words as he never had before. Grabbing his wand, he impatiently tapped the paper and muttered, "I solemnly swear I am up to no good." As the words filled the page, he had to leave the letter and down two shots of Firewhiskey before he could resume reading it. He scanned the page, reading it with lips moving soundlessly.

 ** _Hello Moony,_**

 ** _Long time, no see. You'll find that you have just become richer by a hundred thousand galleons. (Don't try and find out who I am). You will find too many changes, this year. Let me give you some unsolicited advice though. Harry will now be attending his third year at Hogwarts. Lots of things have gone awry in the past two years for him. As usual, the DADA teacher didn't last the year. Voldemort isn't as gone as you might think. Apply for that post, so that you can come into contact with him again. Dumbledore and the cub are currently not on the best terms with each other, and the old fool will try to use your appointment to appease him, and Harry is bound to see right through the manipulations. I suggest that you make contact with Harry once you reach the school. Do not try to mollycoddle him; he manages well on the defensive front on his own. The basilisk money that you have got is from him. He trusted me to give the money to people he could trust to use it properly. You may not know or remember me, but I know you fairly well, you idiotic piece of shite. Nice going, leaving a true friend to rot, mourning a dead friend and a traitor, and leaving all that was left of James and Lily to rot in the "tender loving care" of his muggle relatives, while you decided to try and get liver disease with drink. I would never forgive you for abandoning Harry to his own personal hell, if I were him._**

 ** _Firewing_**

 **P.S.: _I_ _solemnly swear I am up to no good (unless it is to help the true Marauders and Prongslet)._**

Remus Lupin read the letter with tears in his eyes. He understood the sarcasm in the note. What and who were these relatives who had obviously hurt the cub? Then his eyes widened... surely not the Dursleys? For a man on the outskirts of the magical world after the deaths of his friends, and the apparent betrayal of one, this was a lifeline that he had no intention of passing on. If this was the way to get back into Harry's life, then he would apply to teach at Hogwarts. He felt guilty about the way he had treated Harry. He had passed the blame of distrust in a "dark creature" to the kid, who knew nothing and had even lesser to do with any decision. He had behaved in a way that had betrayed the Cub. Why had he trusted Dumbledore about Harry's safety? He wondered who Firewing was. He couldn't remember anyone who knew his secret so well and was alive or not in Azkaban. This was a mystery to the werewolf. Whoever he or she was, Firewing was trying to help both Harry and him. So that was something that would always be good in his book. He just hoped Hogwarts would be ready for the second coming of the Marauders.


	11. Chapter 11

**Gringotts- III**

Harry sat in his room, taking a review of things done, believed, thought of, and the like. This was the last chance, and every little mistake would completely destroy the fabric of time as had been pre-ordained. He had had enough of his own mistakes and pigheadedness to blame for the precarious condition in which the magical and by extension even the mundane world had been placed.

The return to the Dursleys with Granny Min coming along to explain the facts of life to the three, as also the surprise visit of Chief Bones at the same time had ensured that Harry would be left alone by them for the summer. She had also brought with her the form for the visits to Hogsmeade, which otherwise would have come with his letter, and coerced Petunia to sign it with but a glare. The two formidable witches had left only after warning the Dursleys to not lock him up and to refrain from any sort of contact with their nephew. It was something that everyone recognised would only mean anger on both sides. To drive home her point, Granny Min completed the transfiguration that Hagrid had threatened Dudley with. The only minor change was that she turned Vernon into a pig, and then back again, before she left with a very threatening glare.

What he didn't know, though, was that when Chief Bones, in her official capacity had taken up the job of warning the muggles, had ordered Harry out of the House, she had also summoned Auror Herbert Adams and performed a thorough investigation of his living conditions. Both had been racked by guilt over something which to be fair was not really their fault, though the Professor and Amelia held some culpability for abandonment. It had thoroughly disgusted them and they had stunned the Dursleys and moved out of the House for a bit to cool their heads and prevent their anger from getting away. They had also made an official report about their findings.

Then there was the early start of the quest for Horcruxes. "Well," thought Harry, correcting himself, "not really the quest, but at the very least, people much more competent in dealing with such things than Dumbledore legally have the inkling of their existence." He let out an explosive, relieved breath as he thought of the dreams and visions that he would never have again. That and the "go and get killed" plan that would now never fructify.

In the previous timeline, he had never known the loneliness that the Lioness of Hogwarts, Minerva McGonagall suffered from, something that had led to the Order being a definition of her life outside of Hogwarts. He wondered how she must have felt making a Vow that would hide her identity with relation to Harry, and then seeing him go through six years of school without even once being able to identify her as "Granny Min". Now she had a way to show a different side of her personality, the one that she would only show to her family. While it was very much true that she had often brushed him off in both timelines at important junctures, he realised that the loyalty to Dumbledore and the common mistake of seeing his father somewhere within him made her react that way. He wondered how many times she might have dismissed his outrage as an elaborate ruse for a prank, a la James Potter. Well, this time he had put up quite a show, and had extricated her from under Dumbledore's thumb.

Then there was Hermione who had been given a shock and a glimpse of what it would be like without him around. "Getting a swollen ego, are we?" he mused. She had pretty much reacted as if he was going to drop dead at any moment, and that was without the knowledge of the way they were connected. He was sure that she would wrap him up in cotton wool, and that would be without the fact that both their lives were inextricably linked. It was going to be difficult to hold back while dealing with her, and yet show her the affection he felt for her. Seventeen or thirteen, he snorted, didn't make any difference as far as his understanding of girls went.

Then there was Ron. He knew what the jealousy stemmed from, and it was something that Harry was sure he had partially remedied. With enough money to live comfortably, any further show of jealousy would simply mean that Ron would no longer remain his friend. He had given the Weasleys enough money that was rightly their share. Now, the quaffle was in their collective hands. He uncomfortably felt as if he had bought Ron's - well, not friendship, but lack of jealousy induced hostility this time around, so he had to make a conscious effort to be as normal as he could around the prat. Still, the time spent had been amicable enough.

Sirius and Moony were two more people he had gotten to, directly or indirectly. Sirius had made a mistake the first time around by not sticking around for Harry, and not resisting Dumbledore's attempts to tear him away from his godson. Sirius had favoured going after the traitor. But when things came to a head in the fifth year, Sirius had lost his life trying to help Harry. It was only the knowledge that Sirius was still alive that kept Harry from wallowing in sorrow all over again. What he couldn't fathom was Moony's excuse for abandoning both Harry and Sirius to hell. Self-pity and self-loathing, something that the man had in equal measure, could only explain that to an extent. He had revealed that James and Lily were two of his best friends, so Harry wasn't sure whether the Headmaster had demanded a Vow from him. Moony, Harry decided, was not going to be easily forgiven. His docile, submissive nature that he had assumed to show that he wasn't a Dark creature had hurt too many people in both timelines. Moony would have to earn his place in both their lives.

Then there was Pettigrew. How was he to get Ron to part with the rat? He remembered how Ron, who constantly whined about his poverty and his pet, had taken his apparent death so much to his heart. Now ... Harry's eyes widened as he realised that it was the single biggest flaw in his plan. Ron would now have enough money to buy himself an owl, for Merlin's sake! That surely meant that he would leave Peter off at home, and the rat would run for it at the first chance he would get after Sirius broke out of prison. "And here," he sighed, "I was thinking I was making foolproof plans. Damn it, had I not realised this, I would have been played for a fool!" He hastily wrote out a letter to Ron, asking him if he could visit during the week, and if Mr. Weasley, Bill and Percy could spare him some time. He also offered to take care of Scabbers till they returned from Egypt, after adding a line that the Egyptians worshipped cats. Harry realised that getting the three senior-most Weasleys to understand the danger posed by the rat before bringing them in on the plan would help in the long run. With the message sent off with Hedwig, Harry heaved a sigh of relief.

Neville and Luna, two people that he knew would be real friends in the long run, were already good friends now. "No waiting three more years for that," he thought happily. By giving Neville the evidence of his power and ability and coaxing him to come out of his shell, Harry was just a tad bit worried that he had unleashed a metaphorical monster. Not that it was a particularly worrying turn of events. Neville **_had_** been a monster to those thrice damned Death Eaters. It would be nice to have the real Neville Longbottom out in the open early. Luna on the other hand was certainly going to be shocked by the sudden contact, but Harry had seen her pain, and he was never, ever going to allow the situation to escalate to such an extent that Luna would lose all her self-worth. She was his friend, and therefore was going to be fiercely protected.

What bothered him the most was controlling the Ministry. That was a plan that was needed to be executed fast. Sirius would be hunted as long as Fudge was in office, but removing Fudge from office would destroy any modicum of stability that the magical world pretended to have. The plan would have to be modified. A better way out, Harry realised, was to eliminate Fudge's cronies and Death Eater masters while observing his reaction to the backlash. If he was useful, he'd be kept around. For all his faults, Fudge was the consummate political animal. Making him beholden to Harry would ensure that several things could be quickly managed. "Miss Skeeter," thought Harry, rubbing his hands in a fair imitation of an evil villain, "you are going to be introduced to the joys of sting operations!"

As promised to Sirius, Harry sent the next Happiness Hamper with a brief outline of the plan and the timescale of its execution, after getting Dobby to set up the trace masking wards.

* * *

The next day, Goldhaul was delivered a letter by a beautiful snowy owl. As a part of Gringotts policy, only owls from clients and replies from the people with whom the clients' business was conducted on their behalf were directly delivered to the desks. That meant that the letter was either from the Greengrasses or from the Potters, specifically Harry- the goblin Griffinheart. While the Greengrass family had always had astute business dealings, the Potter vaults had lain dormant for about twelve years. Having recently met the sole surviving Potter, Goldhaul was convinced that the lack of correspondence from the side of his client was almost assuredly not his fault. In just one meeting, the boy wizard had shown his value, and had earned a place of honour with the Goblin nation. So the letter requesting a meeting with Goldhaul with a portkey activation to help him arrive at Gringotts was given special consideration.

Goldhaul had only heard of Harry's ambitions and a very vague outline of his plan to destroy Voldemort's financial base, years in advance. The letter specifically stated that he was now ready with the plan, and that he also had a couple of other points of business. It also included the request that Harry be replied using Hedwig only, as there were owl redirection wards around Privet Drive, with only Hedwig never being checked. Goldhaul allotted the required time for Harry for Monday at 2 p.m. He hoped that what he heard would be worth his time. He also passed on a message to Biggem, the Black Vault Manager to be present for the meeting as Griffinheart had requested.

On Monday, at a quarter to two, Harry arrived with Dobby at Gringotts, each of them dressed in proper clothes. Harry had asked Dobby to wear clean, well-matched clothes, and to walk erect, which was how they met the two goblins.

"ð Well met, Master Goldhaul, Master Biggem, may your vaults flow with treasures borne from the annihilation of your enemies ð," they both spoke with a bow, before Harry introduced Dobby, "ð Allow me to introduce Dobby, my great and loyal bonded friend. ð"

"Well met, Griffinheart," replied the Vault managers in tandem, in English.

"May our mutual enemies feel the wrath of Gryffindor's blade, as they pay you the tithe with their lives and treasures! We see that you have called a House-elf your friend. But then again, we have come to expect the unusual from you," Goldhaul said with a shark-like grin.

"Indeed, Master Goldhaul, a House-Elf's eagerness to help shouldn't be misconstrued as servitude. Magic is vast and cannot be completely described by the simple spells that witches and wizards use. It is the reason for the existences of us all, and life itself is a form of magic. Anyone respecting the purity of magic thus becomes my friend, and that has nothing to do with blood as most of my peers believe, but with intent that they base their magic upon," Harry replied with a thin smile.

"Admirable sentiments, Griffinheart, that were very well spoken. I trust that that wasn't the purpose of this meeting?"

"No, Master Goldhaul. I have in fact three points of discussion. Firstly: the destruction of the bigots ruling the Ministry. I thought upon the matter, and have since come to the conclusion that if the current Minister's cronies are destroyed one by one, starting with the worst, then laying low, and then striking at random, Fudge will be conducive to manipulation from our side. Consider this. Fudge, as of this moment is cocooned in the temporary security that the semblance of normalcy prevalent in the magical community as of now allows. By striking at his minions and Death Eater advisers, he will be placed in a very vulnerable position. If moves were made to protect him, subject to our terms and conditions, the situation will be very malleable for us to shape it as we need it. Or, he can just be completely destroyed. Personally, I am leaning to that," he admitted.

"Very good application of logic there, Griffinheart. How would this be accomplished though? Fudge blocks all attempts by the DMLE to investigate anyone in his favour. Goblins cannot provide any evidence on their own; the Wizengamot only recognises the financial records that we provide as supplementary to whatever evidence that they can accrue."

"That brings me to the solution. I hope that the Daily Prophet reporter, Rita Skeeter, is known to you?" At nods from the goblins, Harry continued, "Rita Skeeter is an illegal animagus. Her form is that of a beetle. Now, what I am going to suggest may seem illegal, but I am sure that with a few... _incentives_ , she may be amenable to do the job for us. I would like to keep aside a fund of one hundred thousand galleons for her payment. I believe five hundred galleons per target, with injuries and any other expenditure being compensated through the fund will be fine enough. The mundane have a concept called as a 'Sting Operation', whereby a hidden observer becomes witness to anything underhanded being done by the ones being observed." He received a rather scary grin at that.

Now," he continued, handing over a list of Death Eaters that he remembered from the battle as also those that he had read about in the old Daily Prophets that he had specifically studied for that very reason, "this is a list of the Death Eaters. I don't know much about the unmarked bigoted lackeys of Fudge, barring his undersecretary, Dolores Umbridge. If such information can be found from trusted sources, that is to say Chief Bones, the other minions of the Minister can be targeted too. The law doesn't recognise the information provided from anonymous sources, but if the Head of House of a Noble family or higher submits such evidence along with a formal complaint to the Head of the DMLE, which so conveniently happens to be Chief Bones, and requests confidentiality, the information is recognised without divulging the name of the complainant."

"And Gringotts' part in this will be?"

"What I need Gringotts to actually help me with is the management of the dealings with Ms. Skeeter, including a contractual agreement that I am sure I will not find easy to draw up. Here I have a list of people that Ms. Skeeter is never to print malicious or benign lies about, as she is prone to do from time to time. I will want an Unbreakable Vow from her. She is to submit her findings to me."

"That can be easily accomplished," Goldhaul promised. "Do you know the rules that the Ministry adheres to?"

"I was coming to that. Considering the part about the complainant, I currently fall foul of the rules. I have no knowledge regarding my inheritance, so I am not sure whether I can take the mantle of the Head of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Potter. Also, I have now defeated the Dark Lord Voldemort who apparently has legitimate blood claims to being the Heir of Slytherin. I would not wish to be presumptuous, but will my defeat of Voldemort have any effect upon the lineage?"

"As regards your plan, it is a very sound idea and certainly one where Gringotts can intercede in on your behalf with minimum intrusion. You cannot take the mantle of the Head of the House of Potter till the age of fourteen. Yours will be a case of line continuation. That means that you are the last of the line. You can't take the Wizengamot seat till you are twenty one, though. Right now, with regards to the seat, it is in reserve. Should you take up the mantle of House Potter, you will be required to appoint a Proxy within six months. You will hold seven votes as the Head of an Ancient and Most Noble House apart from the 20 other votes that you command through your vassals, Weasley and Dumbledore being the prominent ones among the ones you have more contact with. However, your defeat of the Heir of the Noble House of Slytherin will affect the lineage, as you rightly guessed. Should you be accepted as the rightful victor over the lineage, by nature of the conquest, you will be emancipated and can take the mantle of the Head of the Noble House of Slytherin. Thereupon, any Houses that you may be hereditary Heir or Scion to will be allowed to accept you as their head. But for that, you have to defeat the last heir once and for all. On the other hand, the Gryffindor ring has been known to accept a new head of house should the claimant have performed tasks of incomparable valour and honour, irrespective of the age. That will clear the path for you to claim your other Head of House positions. So yes, that seems a fairly plausible solution."

"Thank you, Master Goldhaul. Once we conclude this discussion, I would beg for some more time of yours at a time of your choosing for further discussion on the matter. Now, Master Biggem, you may have wondered why I have expressly requested your presence."

"I did indeed, Master Griffinheart. When Goldhaul brought me up to date with the proceedings of the last closed door meeting which His Majesty, the Lord Director presided, I wondered what it meant. If I may be so forward as to question your motives behind not including me in that august meeting, I would very much like to know," replied Biggem with a neutral face.

"I believed that you would feel that way, Master Biggem. However, as you have guessed, I did have my motives. You may remember that Chief Bones, the Head of the DMLE, was in attendance at that meeting. As you may know, the sole remaining male member of the Black family, for whom you manage the accounts, Sirius is incarcerated in Azkaban. The charges are, apparently, the betrayal of my parents to Voldemort, the murder of Peter Pettigrew and thirteen muggles, along with the third charge of being a Death Eater."

Harry kept observing Biggem throughout this speech for any sign of anger from the Goblin, and he was rewarded for his efforts. Biggem sneered at him in a way that would make even Snape look positively normal. Harry smiled at that. The grumpy goblin would have had no particular interest in Sirius, were it not for the fact that it was causing him problems because he could not invest the money. And no money to invest meant Biggem did not get any for himself. Truly a terrible thing for the 'poor' goblin.

"Now, Master Biggem, Master Goldhaul, what I shall tell you, and what I shall show you, must not be revealed to anyone under any circumstances for about two weeks. That caveat includes the Lord Director. Once I reveal all to you, only four souls shall know the whole truth." He then told them the whole story about Sirius and Pettigrew, and the fact that Sirius was his Godfather, and that Harry had found Pettigrew. To say that the two Garnarukran were astounded and seething at the incarceration of an important client would be an understatement.

"I now come back to something I told you about first. The Minister's Undersecretary, Dolores Umbridge is a bit too friendly with Dementors. After I helped put their moneybags into Azkaban, any proof regarding such a high-profile inmate will be checked several times over. I fear that she might harm him. Now, before proceeding further, I would like to draw my wand, and would ask you for permission for the same and also that you raise any wards that may shield my magic from the trace detection." There was no need for that, due to his bonded wand, but there was no need for the Garnarukran to know about it. When that was done, he performed the spells as were required and sent Sirius another Happiness Hamper.

The Goblins were not immune to the effects that the Patroni generated, and soon calmed down and smiled. As Harry recuperated a bit with hot chocolate, they conversed with each other regarding what they had just heard and seen. "What you have just seen is something that I call a Happiness Hamper. I have sent Sirius three such Hampers, and have apprised him of the plan. He has been practicing Occlumency and his animagus transformation for the past week. Once I collect Pettigrew, and the Weasleys have left for Egypt, I will be sending him the last one with the message that the coast is clear. He will be breaking out of Azkaban. As soon as I do so, I will turn over the traitor to you, because I have no place to imprison him. You will of course scoff at this, but Sirius has been creeping out of his cell several times a day, and the Dementors actively avoid him. I have also created a temporary mind link with him that allows us to share the effects of the dementors in a controlled manner. It doesn't get too overpowering from me, but remains enough for him to recognise their presence. What I need help from you with is to keep a secret. Is it possible to have some sort of Fidelius charm on the knowledge about Sirius' animagus form? With you as the secret-keeper and the secret divulged to Dobby and I, it will ensure a safe passage for Sirius. His form is that of a Grim. To sweeten the pot for you, I would ask you to accept seven and a half per cent of the compensation that the Ministry will have to pay."

The Goblins sat as they were taken aback by the sheer power of the wizard, by the details of his plans and by the sheer audacity required to execute it properly. The Blacks, though a very snarky family, had always brought in good business. If any actions on their part meant a resumption of such business, they were most certainly game for it. With the promise of payment more than they would have asked, it was always going to be a yes from them. That was without mentioning that it was an excellent chance to go 'one up' on the Ministry.

"In the meantime, I would like to have Gringotts arrange the purchase of numbers 2, 4, and 6, Privet Drive, Little Whinging in Surrey on my behalf. I remember having allotted a quarter million galleons for 'other' purposes. This was one of those things. I would like these properties bought, redesigned into a smallish Manor, goblin-warded and with myself as the secret keeper, put under the Fidelius. While I would have liked to have either Goldhaul or Dobby as the secret keeper, I fear Dumbledore's intrusion, and his rather obvious lack of respect for the mental privacy of people. I consider you both friends and would not have you subjected to that."

Both Goldhaul and Dobby laughed at this. "Master Harry Potter Sir, you is not knowing elf magics, so you is saying such things. Mind magics is working not on bonded elf sir, I is not able to betray your secret!"

"Griffinheart, the Fidelius Charm itself is inherently immune to mind-attacks, so your fears are unfounded. Moreover, Goblins are physiologically immune to Wizard Legillimency, Confundus Charms, Confusion Draughts and the works. Barring an Imperius which works on all beings similarly, Goblins have an impervious mind," Goldhaul told him sternly, making Harry duck his head contritely, and emit a mumbled apology. The Goblin glared at him imperiously, and then conversed with Biggem in Glenskrad. "Am I to understand, Griffinheart, that you will be harbouring an escaped convict in this new place and that you will want an illusion of a person buying these places, and securing your guardianship?"

"Yes, Master Goblin. Though, I believe that accepting the Slytherin Lordship if I am chosen by magic would emancipate me in the magical world, the mundane world still requires a guardian."

"Very well, it shall be arranged. Do you want to accept the Lordships now? Or would that be at a later date?"

"I can understand the value of your time, Master Goblin, but I would prefer to accept the Lordships, after the work at Privet Drive is done. That way I can be away from Dumbledore's prying eyes."

"Very well. Are there any other matters that you would wish to discuss?"

"No, Master Goldhaul. If that concludes our meeting, unless there is something that you would want to discuss," Harry replied, deeming it prudent to allow the goblin to end the meeting on his terms.

"You have my leave, Griffinheart," intoned Goldhaul with a slight nod. Biggem nodded similarly, and then grinned in the very shark-like manner of the goblins, grasping Harry's hand in a long fingered handshake.


	12. Chapter 12

**Simmering Summer- I**

As they left Gringotts, Jean and David Granger were both still digesting the shock of being literally handed over thirty five and a half million pounds in cash, vaults and investments. Then they had to contend with the fact that the money was a part of a compensation packet for their daughter, and had come through the sale of the body parts of the magical beast that had hurt her enough to require a two month incarceration in the school infirmary. If that wasn't all, the one who had slain this beast was a mere twelve year old boy who only just so happened to be Harry Potter, their daughter's best friend. As parents with no innate magical ability, being parted from their daughter as she spent nine months in a world that they did not understand was something the Granger couple did not take very kindly. At the same time, there was no way that they could deny that their darling daughter was happy with the situation regarding the school. They resolved to have a long talk with her at the first chance they could get.

Jean turned around in her seat to look at her daughter. She was wearing a very odd expression as she vaguely stared out of the window. A beautiful smile mixed with a sudden faint blush as she remembered something, made her mother wonder whether her prim and proper little girl had started growing up into a young lady. The girl in question caressed her own cheek gently, still in a world of her own as she remembered the kiss on her cheek by her best friend. Her expression turned so fast that Jean turned in her seat to see if there was an accident on the road that made her daughter's face look so horror-stricken.

Hermione was running the images of the basilisk that she had seen and the image of Harry being bitten by the basilisk. That imagery was soon replaced by the feelings that had made her feel doubly conflicted. Harry's protectiveness and more importantly his reasons for his actions in Dumbledore's office that still sent a shudder down her spine, while noble were very painful to think of for Hermione. Then there was the fact that each of his actions and the corresponding reasons with respect to his dealings with the Chamber of Secrets matter revolved around her. Harry had explicitly stated that it was her safety that was of paramount importance; he had explicitly said that she was precious. That caused her to blush again. Then there was the horror at the thought of him dying. She had no reason to disbelieve him now. She had seen him talk to Hedwig and Ra, then with Fang and then again also with a couple of ravens in Hagrid's pumpkin patch. She was just glad that he wasn't going to leave forever now; the very thought caused her pain that she couldn't describe. She wallowed in sadness caused by her imagination running wild from there on, for a while. Her expression displayed her depressed state of mind so much that her mother was really starting to worry. That was until they came across a broken down car which was emitting copious amounts of silver-gray smoke. It immediately reminded Hermione of the Patronus Charm that Harry had performed. She had seen it, and had felt the Otter as if it was an extension of her consciousness, though Harry didn't know that she did.

Jean was at a loss. She had seen a whole gamut of expressions flash across her daughter's face that ranged from sadness and sorrow to tremendous happiness and elation. The little blushes that coloured her cheeks every now and then meant that there was more than just schoolwork and magical beasts lose on said school's premises at work here. It was also imperative that this wasn't brought to her husband's notice. A good man, strong-willed, kind and stubborn, was David Granger, except when it came to his daughter who would always be his little princess. If, as Jean suspected, there was a boy somewhere in the equation, heaven forbid David ever got scent of it. Without magic, the formidable man would still easily manage to hex the boy to hell and back. She felt vindicated about her suspicions when Hermione didn't realise even when they had reached home and was staring off into the distance with a vacant smile, which was tinged slightly with sadness.

"Hermione," called Jean, slightly shaking her girl by the shoulders. "Hermione, come on now, we've reached home."

Hermione jerked as she started before turning to look at her mother and smiled slightly. "Yes mum. It's good to be home," she said dreamily.

Jean just raised her eyebrows as she followed Hermione into the house, David trudging behind them holding the trunk. It didn't take much time for the mother's keen gaze to realise that Hermione truly wasn't all there. She was unable to decide whether something was troubling her, or whether she was delighted about something or whether it was a mixture of the two. It was much like trying to guess the book Hermione was reading based on just the subtle behavioural and facial cues she provided. It had once been a game for mother and daughter, each of whom was a voracious reader, to guess the plot or the book that way. This time, Hermione was reacting physically too, though very subtly, and Jean was itching to unravel the mystery.

That night after dinner, Jean knocked softly on Hermione's door. "Hermione? Child, are you awake?" At a soft, "Come in, mum," Jean entered to see her daughter dressed in her pyjamas, lounging on the comfort chair in her room, with her legs draped across the arms as she indulged in her hidden fetish, the romance novels that would make many others distinctly uncomfortable.

"You wanted to talk to me about something, mum? You aren't really the kind to just observe me while I read these books," Hermione ribbed her mother with a small smile.

Deciding to demonstrate that two could play the game, Jean teased back, "You aren't the kind to behave a little like the characters in your secret books, either, girl."

Hermione's eyes widened momentarily before she arranged her face in a scowl and huffed while her mother chuckled softly. "Please, mum. You should know better than to tease me about such things. You know perfectly well that I will never behave like the characters in these books. Perhaps it is for that reason that I like reading these, as Dad calls them, "trashy, mushy romance novels"."

"I didn't know you knew that David knows you read this stuff," Jean replied, slightly displaying surprise, though her real intention was to put Hermione off guard.

"Of course I did. When has it so happened that anything remained a secret between you and Dad?" Hermione asked.

"Are you accusing me of ratting you out, young lady?"

"No mum. I don't think you would ever rat me out directly or purposely. But that doesn't mean that you wouldn't gush about the latest books that I read. We are very much alike that way, aren't we?"

"So we are, dear. Unfortunately, we are also similar in one more way."

Hermione looked at her mother curiously. It was a matter of pride for the Grangers to demonstrate the similarities they had with each other. It was something that they always bonded on as a family. For her mother to express disappointment in such a similarity was unprecedented. She couldn't help but question her about it. "Unfortunate that we are similar in which way, mum? I never knew you could feel that way about me regarding something." She couldn't keep a tinge of hurt from her voice as she said this. To her, Jean was the epitome of perfection, a woman that she aspired to emulate.

Jean smiled at her daughter as she was drawn into the trap through her need to know. "You see, we both have the tendency to try and rationalise our feelings. When we encounter something that we can't rationalise, that we can't explain away, the first option is to read it as that emotion takes over and good things _happen to the story-book character._ I did that too, when I had my first crush, and though it was rather fortuitous that the person in question was your father, I tried to explain away my feelings for one of my best friends, one who was about a year and a half younger than I, as just teenage hormones. Needless to say, I failed miserably. You'll want to know what this has got to do with you," she said forestalling the question she could see forming on her daughter's face. "So, I'll ask you outright, who's he? Who's the one that has got my darling daughter confused and a little smitten?"

Hermione gaped at her mother, and then blushed deeply. She had always known that her mother was unusually perceptive, and that she was also extremely observant to boot. That reminded her of day at Gringotts with Chief Bones when Harry had made the observations that allowed him to recognise Ragnok. It diverted her attention temporarily from the current conversation, and it was some time before she remembered to get the rebuttal in. "Mum! You know full well that nothing of that sort has happened! Why are you pestering me so insistently?"

"If you say so, dear. But the way I see it, you aren't fully done for, just yet. I was watching you while you sat in the car. It was very amusing to see you blush every now and then for no apparent reason. Then you had those little smiles, horror at whatever it was that you remembered, a little anger at something, and then you were unbelievably happy about something. If you won't or can't tell me about the one who caused such reactions, at least tell me what happened to you that required such a large compensation payoff."

And there, for Hermione, was the crux of the problem. It had taken about two months of patient discussions and deliberations for her parents to accept the idea of their daughter leaving home to attend a boarding school for nearly ten months each year. It wasn't so much the idea of her staying at such a school that bothered them, it was the fact that that world was often beyond their understanding and sometimes, as in the case of the school, even beyond their sight. How would they react to such a situation where one of the obvious dangers was death? She had to break the news very slowly to them as she wasn't quite sure what had been communicated to them from Hogwarts. "Of course, Mum, I'll tell you. First, could you tell me what you have been told about whatever had happened to me? It'll make it easier for me to explain." Hermione felt much as she did when faced by the troll on the Halloween night of the first year. She needed to keep control of the conversation.

"We were told that there was an unknown disease spreading among the students that caused them to show symptoms which fixed them and their body into a sort of coma. I didn't like it one bit, but I was assured that the symptoms were easily treatable and there was nothing to worry. I wanted to rush over to that school and pull you out of there, but your Professor McGonagall promised me that the situation was within control, and such a step as we wanted to take could hurt your mind. Is there something that you would like to tell me?" Jean's tone clearly suggested that she was demanding an explanation immediately.

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. That was pretty much the story, and she soon enough explained the facts about the basilisk, how its eyes were deadly, how she had staved off certain death, and how Harry had killed it. It really was unknown (or so she thought), and there was no way that anyone could guess what was causing the unexplained petrifactions. She told her mother about Harry being a Parselmouth and how that led to the discovery of the monster being a gigantic snake, and also the vilification he faced from the entire school. It was the part about how she had connected the dots and realised that it was a basilisk just before the attack that had her petrified. Her mother wasn't pleased at all even with the solution.

"Why Hermione, was a mere twelve year old boy, required to kill that thing? Why was it unleashed in the first place and how? Why did Harry not help you when you were attacked? Where was your other friend?"

"Mum, Harry wasn't _required_ to kill the basilisk. But apart from the perpetrator, he is the only Parselmouth. Once the girl who had been possessed- Ron's sister Ginny- was taken down to the chamber, only Harry could have opened the Chamber to rescue her. The school Governors had sacked Dumbledore, so he wasn't even in the castle at the time. In what little time they had, Harry and Ron did the only things they could. So I don't see why you have a problem with that," replied Hermione testily. "As for Harry not being around when I was attacked, for lack of a better word, he was getting ready for a school cup game and I rushed off without him even knowing about it. As such, I wouldn't be allowed in the male changing rooms, would I? He was inside when I solved the puzzle and rushed off to the library. So don't you dare blame him," she warned.

Hermione hadn't told her mother the truth regarding where Harry was while she was being attacked, but she wasn't going to let her blame him even by implication. Her voice as she berated her mother implicitly was strong and commanding, something that Jean knew she only employed while passionately defending something very close to her heart. That caused her to try and stifle a grin, something that she failed to do, not failing to observe that she said nothing to defend the red-haired boy.

"So, Harry, is it? Our twelve, going on thirteen, year old benefactor has caught your fancy? I should have known! Your letters are quite complimentary about the lad!" Jean really couldn't suppress her grin, and lost the battle when Hermione blushed even more and looked away. The girl sprang off the chair, lay on her bed and pulling the sheets over her head, called out to her mother, "Goodnight Mum! You have had enough fun at my expense..." The muffled words though did not hide her mock-indignation and that set her mother laughing. Unknown to Hermione however, Jean had started thinking along the lines of pulling her daughter out of that thrice damned school.

* * *

Away in his cell in Azkaban, Padfoot sat on his haunches, contemplating the Pup's latest message. The meetings with Biggem, and turning the rat over to the Goblins for imprisonment were inspired decisions, Sirius had to admit. That already improved his situation with Gringotts. Then there was Harry's status as Goblin Friend and Honorary Goblin. Those were gigantic steps forward, and it actually warmed Sirius' heart to hear about his godson's achievements. What Harry had achieved at the (apparent) age of just under thirteen was something that many wizards couldn't manage even by the time they approached the end of their mortal existences. Placing the advocates on a retainer was good foresight.

Then there was the prank on Dumbledore, whereby Harry had ensured that he would always _return_ to Privet Drive, but that was where his orders would end. Harry was told to stay at #4, Privet Drive. The Dursleys hadn't been compelled to do so. So Harry buying three houses and using Goblin wards not only made sense, it also reeked of his Marauder lineage, Sirius thought proudly.

The Fidelius charm still gave him nightmares, but by making himself the secret-keeper, Harry had only to be discrete about whom he trusted. Making Dumbledore forget about the house was an added bonus. Padfoot twitched slightly, as he was tickled by the heavy inflow of the Hampers. A week ago, Sirius had never imagined even remotely entertaining any happy thoughts. Yet, there he was, snickering as only a dog could, over Harry's prank. Sirius was one proud Godfather, biding his time for his godson's signal to execute the next part of the prank.

* * *

Marius Greengrass, younger brother to Lord Cyrus Greengrass, was at his table, reviewing his correspondences for the Law firm, Greengrass, Tonks, Doge and Associates. This particular firm was headed, in partnership, by the younger brothers of two Wizengamot members, Marius Greengrass and Thaddeus Doge, and a brilliant muggle-born lawyer Theodore Tonks. Between them, they had handled magical law cases of almost every kind, with Marius having the uncanny ability to theorise and extrapolate from very few facts to make a very accurate judgement regarding the truth of the matter and the standing of the prospective client. Doge was an amazing and tenacious orator, while Ted Tonks knew the law better than he knew the back of his hand.

That morning, Marius' correspondences included a business Owl from Gringotts, attached with a letter from, of all people, Harry Potter. Marius' daughter, Daphne, was the boy's year-mate, and had spoken of his animus that existed between the Gryffindor and Slytherins in general. When his letter came in as an attachment with Gringotts' Marius was piqued. He read through both letters, his eyes becoming wider and wider as he read the sources of his new client's income. Daphne was in school with a bloody Basilisk? The goblins had also asked for special consideration for any case brought up as the client was an honorary Goblin! "Great Merlin's saggy Y-front!" thought Marius. This was a coup of sorts.

The letter from the boy himself was an eye-opener. He had expected at the most, a polite formality as a new client. The letter instead, comprised of the case regarding Sirius Black, and most amusingly, the Goblins and the boy had found Peter Pettigrew! It was getting better and better. So, the presumptive Lord Black was being incarcerated on false charges. He was certainly in for a major windfall from the Ministry. What grabbed Marius' attention forcibly, though was the excerpt of charges that were to be levied against the Ministry, the institution of the Wizengamot, the then Head of the DMLE and Chief Warlock. It read:

· Arrest without proof

· Incarceration of suspect without trial for more than three months.

· Protocol for trial not followed.

· Wand not checked; snapped without following protocol, causing severe loss to defendant's magical ability.

· Preventing Auror from performing duty.

· Non-compliance of protocol regarding physiological or psychological health of defendant.

· Right to interrogation under Veritaserum denied.

· Right to present pensieve memories denied.

· Discrimination against defendant based on family ties and name (minor charge).

· Perjury to court by Aurors on duty.

· Deprivation of custody of minor as charged by the legal decision of the head of an Ancient and Most Noble House.

· Wrongful confinement of Heir and then presumptive Head of an Ancient and Most Noble House.

· Wrongful confinement leading to loss of the line of an Ancient and Most Noble House, unless said Head of House was released.

"Well," thought Marius, "the client has certainly done quite a lot of homework." He went around to the Floo to contact Ted Tonks first. He was after all, related to Sirius Black by marriage. This was going to be a big case for their firm, apart from the prestige of having the Boy-who-lived as a star client.

* * *

Now that he had adequately dealt with most of the pressing issues, and those that he couldn't deal with were the issues that really couldn't be dealt with immediately, Harry decided that he would go about dealing some payback to the Dursleys. Would he, could he and should he resort to violence? His musings were responded by a resounding yes. He was almost destroyed, actually killed twice by those brutes, so they would get what was coming for them. He was done being the forgiving, magnanimous old Harry. If violence against those who hurt him and his was the appropriate answer, he would resort to that. If nothing else, it would bring catharsis.

That day, he surreptitiously cleaned up the cupboard under the stairs, except for... _whatever_ it was that passed for the bed. He then kept to his room and well out of the way of the Dursleys. That night, Petunia heard some noise from the kitchen. "That must be the freak! Stealing food from my kitchen! I will let Vernon have his hide!" she muttered as she made her way to the kitchen. A faint light was emanating from the room, and Petunia surmised that it was the freak opening the refrigerator. She stomped in with the fireplace poker in her hand, only to drop it as she came face to face with Lily. Harry smirked inwardly. This was a very predictable reaction from his so-called aunt.

"You!" she whispered hoarsely. "You are dead! This is all the work of that freak son of yours! A freak, just like you! Filled with the terrible un-" She never got to finish her diatribe, as a cooking pan caught her in the side of the head, making her stagger dazedly.

"Now, now, Petunia; you wouldn't want to make me any angrier would you? I am going to make you feel everything that you made my son suffer." Harry/Lily slapped Petunia several times, before casting the Dement curse on her (he had discretely practised it on Pansy Parkinson and Draco Malfoy's minions when they had come in for their 'bullying on the train' ritual in the blonde ferret's stead).As Petunia started screaming in unbridled mental agony, Harry calmly led her to the cupboard under the stairs, and cast the wards and charms that Hermione and he had employed while on the hunt. "Starvations, beatings, and everything else, Aunt Petunia, will be your prize for the next three days," he said, with extreme malice colouring his voice again. If a certain old headmaster had seen and heard all of that, he would have been convinced that Harry had gone dark. Harry wouldn't have bothered to dispute that proclamation.

To Harry it was all a process whereby he was exacting revenge for all the hatred he bore towards the Dursleys. Striding up the stairs, he snuck into Dudley's room, donned the human whale's boxing gloves, had Dobby cast a silencing charm on the boy and then proceeded to pummel him to within an inch of his life. He then cast the Dement Curse on his cousin too. Once he was satisfied with the results, he went off after Vernon, locking the door as he left.

Vernon Dursley, the most brutal of the lot, was not going to be spared at all. Transforming his looks to copy Sirius and James alternately, he pummelled his Uncle as he had his son, before a belt lashing in the form of his father's doppelganger. Leaving the man to his cursed agony, he again locked the door to be opened after three days. With the rush of adrenaline slowly leaving his body, he had to vacate his stomach as he ran over what he had done. He realised that he didn't feel even remotely guilty. There would never be any forgiveness for many people. Dumbledore, Riddle, any Death Eater including Snape, the Dursleys, Ron, Molly and Ginny, Umbridge... the list went on and on, and Harry realised he did not feel even the slightest squirm of unease. He was done sacrificing for a world that did not appreciate his actions. He was going to make his own life, and annihilate his enemies. "Good old Harry Potter is dead," he thought with a silky, malicious smile, as he downed a can of Coke and whatever else caught his fancy. This was just part one of his revenge. He had another curse he would leave them with.

* * *

Rita Skeeter, the leading reporter for the Daily Prophet, who destroyed as many lives as she could for a living, was untying an owl from Gringotts with some trepidation. While it was strictly true that she wasn't among the most moral people in the magical world, and that often, her so-called reports were speculation, conjecture and mere rumours, she would always touch a raw nerve once in a while. She was a bit worried that whoever her latest victim was, had asked for a financial reparation. While neither her report nor the speculation could be proven to be true, as she had no hard evidence, anyone using official channels for retribution could totally destroy her.

As she read the letter, however, her fears turned to naught. This was a contract from the Boy-who-lived, drawn on his behalf by Gringotts, to actually, legally find the truths about people. She would have to leave her job at the Daily Prophet, but five hundred galleons per target, was much more than she made each year. There would be certain oaths and Vows, and a modicum of legitimacy to her work. With that sort of immunity, and the tacit backing of the Head of DMLE, she stood to gain a lot. There were the people that she would never be able to write about, but that was only a minor trade-off compared to what she was going to earn. Well, she was going to have her cake and eat it. Wasting no time, she sent off her resignation to the editor of the Daily Prophet, and her acceptance to Gringotts. If the times were changing, Skeeter was determined to ride the waves to safety and prosperity.


	13. Chapter 13

**Simmering Summer- II**

 **Cliche** : Ditching the Weasleys as soon as Harry returns through time. Alternate way to deal with them starts here.

* * *

Bill was at the Burrow, waiting with his brother and father for Harry to arrive. Harry had asked for utmost secrecy, and invoked an Oath on Bill's position as a Gringotts employee. That by itself was a big indicator that things were very, _very_ serious. What could really be the matter that Harry would ask for such stringent secrecy?

Harry meanwhile, had taken the Knight Bus to Gringotts. In the previous timeline, all Harry's travels using the Knight Bus were under very distressing circumstances. That meant that he had never really seen the Bus for what it was. The twelve year old kid that he was really supposed to be came out to the fore, as he enjoyed a joy-ride that was better than the best of any that an amusement park could offer. That the ride was through the roads of the cities and towns actually made the experience quite thrilling.

"Mast- Harry, Dobby is not using the Knight Bus afters now. I is not liking being thrown about," Dobby had complained petulantly, at least as petulantly as his elfish ways allowed. Harry had pouted at his friend, but allowed him to pop away wherever they would go, while Harry travelled by the Bus. They alighted at the Leaky Cauldron, and Dobby then popped them both off to the stairs outside Gringotts, where after the customary greetings and introductions to Sharphex, the head of Client Protection and Armed Enforcement at Gringotts, Dobby, Harry, Biggem, Sharphex and a troop of three war goblins port-keyed to the Burrow.

Bill, having seen the incoming party through the hedges around the Burrow, instantly recognised his teacher, Sharphex, who was a renowned warding and duelling master. Seeing the goblins arrayed in armoury, Bill knew that things were much more serious than he had even imagined. With goblins (and he reminded himself that barring Dobby, everyone else including Harry was a goblin), any military action usually meant absolute destruction of those who angered them. He relaxed a bit, as Harry came in, smiling calmly.

"Hello, Mr. Weasley, Percy, Bill. I can see that you are apprehensive about the goblin party that has come to the Burrow. Let me assure you, that you are not in danger. No. Let me rephrase that. You will no longer be in danger. You have been in danger for twelve years. We have come here to extricate you from that danger, and also correct a terrible wrong and an injustice perpetuated by the Wizengamot, and especially, Dumbledore. I know you have several questions, but I would request you to hold patience till our active work here, is done. Please trust me on this." He then handed out a piece of paper on which he had written the oath that he wanted them to swear. Bill looked towards his Goblin mentor, who kept an impassive face, and just nodded.

"I William Arthur/ Arthur Septimus/ Percival Ignatius Weasley, swear on my life and magic that I will cooperate with the Goblin operation at the Burrow, brought on by Hadrian James Potter, also known as the Goblin Griffinheart. I also hereby swear that I will not willingly divulge anything that I shall know today to any soul, until such time as allowed by Hadrian James Potter. I shall also submit to voluntary modification of the memory of today to ensure that there is no manner in which my memory may be used with or without my permission to affect the course of law and justice in any way, till I am reminded about the events. So I swear, so shall it be!" They then all shot beams of light from their respective wand to prove the validity of their oaths.

Harry thanked them, and then asked Dobby to retrieve Scabbers. Dobby immediately complied, and returned in a trice with Scabbers who squirming. Scabbers, upon seeing the group, had immediately understood that the game was up. On Harry's instructions, Bill stunned the rat and stood aghast after casting the animagus revealing spell, as the rat turned into Peter Pettigrew. Without missing a beat, the goblins stunned him again for good measure, this time with solid hits to the head with the hilts of their swords, and then bound him, before placing the magic restraining handcuffs onto the man. Harry then tore open Peter's left sleeve to reveal the Dark Mark.

Mr. Weasley's knees buckled as he saw all this. Percy and Bill who weren't much better off, just about managed to support him. "What is the meaning of all this Harry? I have had too many shocks recently, and I am not sure that I will be able to bear any more. You will tell me everything, and you will start now!" Harry had never heard Mr. Weasley shout, and had often believed it to be beyond the capabilities of the affable man. At that moment however, he recognised the tone as panic and not anger, and moved to pacify Arthur, even as his companions started bristling.

"Please, Mr. Weasley, calm down. I can understand that you have started to panic, that you had no idea that this piece of dirt," the Weasleys' eyes widened at this, "was in your house and that you are absolutely flabbergasted and at your wits' end. I understand it all. So please calm down and let me explain. This is, as you have seen and correctly guessed, Peter Pettigrew. _He_ was my parents' secret-keeper, not Sirius. Sirius Black is my godfather and rightful guardian, and he has been put into Azkaban on Dumbledore's orders, as far as I can read the situation."

It was taking the three Weasleys some time to assimilate the new proofs, evidences and information, and that was something that Harry had come prepared for. It was always going to be a shock for any sane person to know that they had been harbouring a terrible criminal unknowingly. The goblins meanwhile placed Pettigrew into a specially modified box, with means for communication inside and out, and then brought him back to consciousness. Harry peered in through the small window on one of the sides of the box. The rat-man groggily blinked about at his surroundings- which seemed much smaller than they would have if seen through a rat's eyes- and his blood ran cold. He turned towards the window, to see James' face peering at him with undisguised malice, hatred, disgust and oddly, a sinister sort of triumph. He was about to back away from the window, when he realised that the eyes, they weren't James'- they were _Lily's eyes._ It was then that he felt real terror. _Harry_ had found him. Now, he had no chance. A sinister, sibilant whisper, that terrorised him more than the Dark Lord ever did, permeated into the box.

"Hello, Wormtail." Harry's smile, thin-lipped and one that didn't reach his eyes (he had copied it from Voldemort; Harry had to admit that it worked), made Wormtail's eyes go wide. "Did you really think that I wouldn't ever remember you, and what you did to my parents and godparents? You will remain a prisoner now, with my goblin friends, and I know everything that you did. I have only one use of you now, and that is to free Sirius, and destroy Voldemort. You will bow to me now Wormtail, and again at the end, when I claim your head from the rest of your body as you die..."

Arthur Weasley was looking at Harry in mild fear and more than a little panic, as he heard the way the boy delivered his missive to the trapped man. It was the second time he had heard Harry use that tone and voice which showed his 'darkness' as Dumbledore would have called it. He tried to compare this with what he knew about his youngest son's best friend. This was a boy who would fight Dark Lords off from magical stones, kill basilisks to save a girl he thought of as a little sister, would willingly offer Death Eaters himself as bait to trap them and would risk death to prevent You-know-who's soul from possessing him. In each case, Arthur noted, the boy was driven by the will to protect those he held dear, and not for any sort of gain. Arthur was sure that he himself would have thought to do something similar were he in Harry's shoes. Harry, he decided, wasn't dark, but wasn't light either, when it came down to the protection of his family. That was an admirable trait in one so young.

"Harry? Could you explain what you told me about, properly? I am still at a loss," Arthur pleaded with the boy.

Harry nodded in acquiescence, and proceeded to relate the story of how Peter had framed Sirius, all the while presenting the facts as his theory, diluting or exaggerating them as would be necessary to mask his knowledge. Finally he explained what he believed was Dumbledore's part in the whole fiasco. "Now, Mr. Weasley, think about this. Sirius never got a trial. That was a luxury accorded to Bellatrix Lestrange, her husband and brother-in-law, and the _then_ Head of DMLE, Bartemius Crouch's son Bartemius Crouch Jr. Even Snape got a trial, so did Karkaroff, Rookwood and so many others. Why not Sirius? It leads me to some very hard questions. Who was the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot then? Dumbledore was. Who did not face the trial? Answer: Known Death Eaters like Malfoy, McNair and others, all of whom claimed to be under the Imperius Curse to go scot-free. Why then did Sirius not go free? Was it because he was a Black, a family with a history of darkness? It's improbable in my opinion. My grandmother was Dorea Black, who was Cedrella Black's second cousin, making us fourth cousins. Shouldn't we be dark too, by that logic? Bellatrix was a Black, so was Narcissa. They weren't judged unfairly. Now, Sirius was the only Black who came out _openly_ against Voldemort, n was actually on the frontline of the war." He ignored the Weasleys' winces at the name.

"What would anyone gain from falsely implicating and imprisoning him?" asked Percy.

"He is my godfather,Percy; in effect after my parents, he was my designated guardian. Sirius must have been a person that nobody could've bent to their wills easily. Add to that the fact that he would be the Lord Black, a tremendous political power. He would have taken steps to divest me of the scar soul-leach many years in advance."

That made sense. Any true guardian would have done that. "You said Dumbledore had a hand in this. How?" demanded Arthur.

"Sirius' guardianship over me meant that Dumbledore would suffer heavy losses as far as his plans for Voldemort's defeat, if he really did wish for that. I would not be his weapon. I would not be under his control. He put me in with my...abusive relatives. What would that have led to? Either I would have become a muggle-hating Dark Lord, or, as Dumbledore hoped, a meek idiot with no self-worth who would have sacrificed himself at the old man's words. Then there was Tom Riddle. Dumbledore kept him in his poor conditions at the orphanage, in spite of the clever and really hard-working twelve year old pleading with the authorities to keep him at Hogwarts, or foster him with a magical family. Tom Riddle went dark due to his circumstances. Was it Dumbledore's idea to absolve his sanctimonious, hypocritical self of that taint by experimenting with me as the unloved, hated, guinea pig?"

Nobody had ever truly questioned Dumbledore in the Weasley household. In fact the magical world as a whole was split into Death Eaters and Dumbledore supporters for the most part. People who questioned both were termed neutral and regarded with a lot of wariness. People who detested both and thought for themselves, _and_ questioned Dumbledore's motives instead of his actions were rarer than Crumple Horned Snorkacks.

Harry decided to add the contents of an oil rig to the fire. "I personally think that Dumbledore is dark or to be precise, that he is a benign dark lord. Either that, or he passively supports the Death Eater faction."

That rocked the three Weasleys onto their heels. "Please explain that," Bill requested, though his voice held a definite tremble.

"Think of the Pureblood supremacist faction, Bill. The Blacks are an Ancient and Most Noble family, and as such hold a higher status than most of the rest. Most purebloods and specifically, many Death Eaters are related to the Blacks. By disowning those who joined Voldemort, or annulling marriages of Black daughters, Sirius would have effectively cut the legs out from under the free Death Eaters. So incarcerating Sirius was in the mutual interest of both parties and I simply cannot discard the idea that Dumbledore put Sirius into Azkaban on purpose. Indeed, what they did is worth retribution and revenge. It is wilful destruction of a Noble line. Do you see why I hate and distrust Dumbledore? He uses people as if they were his personal property. I fear he might use you too. Yet, I haven't touched on much more damning arguments against Dumbledore. How did the Death Eaters manage to escape without any trials in the first place? Why did he not make words like 'mud-blood' and 'blood traitor' taboo? He has far too much political power as the Chief Warlock and Supreme Mugwump. If that isn't enough, he has the power of educational influence. How do people like Draco Malfoy escape censure for slurs against first generation magic users? It all points to a larger plot, where Dumbledore is somehow implicated in many wrongdoings."

With the facts being laid out that way, Mr. Weasley couldn't find any fault with Harry's reasoning and his accusations against Dumbledore. To believe that Dumbledore could have connived with the Death Eater faction to put Sirius into jail made him feel positively sick. He couldn't understand how a person that most of them had looked up to could possibly be guilty of such corruption. Yet, there was no disputing any of the facts and any of the conjecture that Harry had laid out. In fact, all that he had heard from Ron only lent further credibility to Harry's words.

Bill on the other hand, was most impressed with Harry's reasoning and deduction skills. It was a clear trail of breadcrumbs that led to far too many influential figures and implicated them with high level corruption. He could see that it was this manner of getting through the layers of manipulations that was one of the more pertinent qualities of the business savvy goblins. That he had shown enough trust in his father, him and his younger brother over such a sensitive matter, while dealing with it as discretely as possible to avoid controversy meant that Bill's respect for the young Potter grew exponentially. He was going to help the boy in whatever way he could. Then there was the Horcrux in his scar that the boy had disposed off with sheer will and determination. This was a person that Bill could understand, respect and stand by. What actually pained him was the destruction of the legend that was Dumbledore. Harry was unapologetically violent, aggressive and hateful when that suited his ends. That Dumbledore hid such a manipulative nature behind the facade of wisdom was a dent in Bill's ability to trust anyone's word based on their perceived credibility, which in hindsight was something he was further thankful to Harry for.

Percy though was the worst affected of them all. The rat that he had picked up as an innocent five year-old, had turned out to be the real betrayer and one of the worst war criminals of the previous war. That the main villain of that war, was not only alive, but had anchored himself to the world of the living using some of the worst Dark Magic imaginable struck the Gryffindor with terror. That one of these anchors had tried to possess and kill his little sister, and another was embedded into the famous scar of the boy who had ended the last war doubled that terror. Percy had looked up to authority figures all his life, the Ministry and Dumbledore being the pinnacles of authority. To see the near conclusive proof that both these institutions had betrayed the trust of those who looked up to them to lead them in times of adversity and prosperity, shook the prudish Head Boy designate. He was troubled by a question. "Harry, why didn't you bring this to the notice of everyone when we were at Hogwarts? Chief Bones was present there, and there were so many witnesses that nobody could have refuted having seen Pettigrew!"

"And what purpose would that serve? Mr. Weasley knows how I remembered everybody from the days before Voldemort attacked. The instant I saw Scabbers, I recognised him as Wormtail, my father's friend. I tried to remember if Remus Lupin and Sirius had ever met me in the intervening years. They never did. So I searched old Prophets to come up with whatever information I have now. Now look at it from the Ministry point of view. They made Sirius a scapegoat then. How would it look now, for the Weasley family? Ginny, possessed by a Dark artefact- that has since been destroyed- unleashed a Basilisk on first generation magical students, with only my word as the evidence to prove her innocence. Ron, one of my best friends would be bandied about as the owner of the rat which was an illegal animagus and the true betrayer of my parents. That thing slept in our dormitory for the past two years. He would have gotten scared and pointed out that you had been the first to pick up Scabbers. That would be an unnecessary black mark against you, never mind the fact that you were barely five when you found him. How does it look for Mr. Weasley at the Ministry? Let me tell you, totally bleak. The question all of you would have been asked was this: how could you not know there was something wrong when this rat lived for twelve years, four times the lifespan of a normal rat? Do you now think that I could have brought this piece of vermin out in the open then?"

Nobody had an answer to this. The three Weasleys simply thanked Harry as he and the Goblins portkeyed off with the new prison box that constrained Wormtail. Bill became party to the plan to buy the three houses on Privet Drive.

* * *

That afternoon, Harry returned to the Burrow, and went up to Ron and all the others as they sat in the Weasley kitchen before lunch. The three eldest male Weasleys present nodded at Harry, who nodded back. Fred and George were their usual exuberant selves, and as Harry had gotten past the shock of seeing Fred alive (having not felt any at seeing either Chief Bones or Dumbledore), he engaged in some "solemn discussions" about the nature of humans and how they differed from animals, before wondering what it would be like to be an animagus like the Marauders.

"HARRY JAMES POTTER!" yelled Mrs. Weasley, "YOU ARE NOT UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES TO PUT ANY IDEAS INTO THE HEADS OF THESE RASCALS! AND YOU ARE MUCH TOO YOUNG TO EVEN ATTEMPT IT! I WILL NOT LIKE TO HEAR ABOUT THIS AGAIN FROM ANY OF YOU!"

All the gentlemen present in the room quailed at the sound of her voice. The twins and Harry nodded fervently, while Bill and Percy smirked a bit. Mr. Weasley was racked by heavy snickers, which he hid behind the Daily Prophet. The shouting also brought Ron and Ginny to the room, each of whom were greeted by Harry in a way that grated on their nerves and caused the rest to erupt in gales of laughter.

"Ickle Ronniekins, ickle Gin-Gin! How are you this fine afternoon? Ron! How spiffing to meet you just in time for lunch! A natural alarm that no clock can hope to beat! Ginny! How's my witteew sista today?" he asked, all at a very fast speed, and in such an exaggeratedly pompous manner that had both the younger redheads scowling. Ron chucked a spoon at him, which Harry caught quite dextrously, while Ginny scowled deeper, and retorted, "Don't call me your little sister!"

Assuming a theatrically pained expression, he turned to the twins, and said in a long-suffering manner, "See, Gred, Forge? I told you that it grates on Ginny's nerves when I am around. She doesn't like me teasing her like you do!" Then, turning back to the girl, he pouted and asked sorrowfully, "Why do you treat me like this Ginny? I tease you less than all the others. Well, Percy doesn't tease, and I don't know about Bill, but you get the picture."

Fred and George took over here. "Why, little sister-"

"The apple of our eye-"

"The one who steals our brooms and flies around in the apple orchard-"

"Why indeed, would you resent our dear Harrykins?"

"Poor little boy, who's come over to help!"

"Poor little seeker, who kills Basilisks in his spare time to save his little sister!"

"The Parselmouth-"

"The Dark Lord in training-"

"Why d-"

"CUT IT OUT, YOU TWO!" screamed Mrs. Weasley again. "Merlin's beard, you have lost it, have you, Harry? What are you stoking _those_ two up for? Merlin knows they need to buckle down and work for their OWLs." She glared at her twin sons with narrowed eyes and growled, "None of your three older brothers have managed less than seven OWLs each. Heaven forbid, should you not perform as well, I'll hand you over to the Goblins to work in their dragon pens!"

Harry realised that as a mother, her concerns were the same in both timelines. "Mrs. Weasley, if you want, I can put in a word in advance. I **_am_** a Goblin after all," he said, sneering cruelly at Fred and George, who seemed to shrink into themselves. Meanwhile, he grabbed a piece of parchment, and wrote out an offer for them, to invest in their store of mischief on the condition that they would get at least a grade of EE in Transfiguration, Charms, DADA, Runes and Arithmancy with at least two O's each in any two of subjects. The twins read it, shared a silent conversation and nodded to Harry, and then passed the parchment to Bill and their father who read it and nodded with a Marauder-worthy smile.

Harry turned to consider Ginny, and now in all seriousness, decided to inquire after her health. Whatever she had done in that timeline, she never deserved the possession that hurt her even more terribly. "Hey, Gin?" he asked in a low, carefully mellifluous voice. "All the teasing aside, are you better now? Are you at least a bit better? Would you mind if we talk privately for a bit?" he added with a questioning glance at her brothers and parents, who understood what he was trying to do and nodded covertly. Ginny hung her head a bit, and nodded sadly. As they went out to the Burrow's orchard, Harry spoke to the room as a whole, "Keep talking to her, all of you, over the summer. I had terrible dreams after I killed Quirrel last summer. Ginny will be worse off. We have to help her. I can't meet her after now, as you'll all be leaving for Egypt, but take particular care of her. She might have _become_ a Parseltongue, so please be sensitive towards her, and do not make any Dark Magic innuendo. Last summer I felt as if I had been imprisoned for killing Quirrelmort," he added with a shudder, making all the others pale in realisation.

* * *

As the two sat by a tree in the orchard, Harry kept staring at Ginny for a while, making her fidget. She started getting irritated with each passing moment, until finally she blurted out, "Alright, what do you want?" The vitriol and venom in her voice made Harry flinch visibly, which made the girl shrink into herself.

"Listen now, Gin, I don't know why you are so angry with me, but I truly want to listen to whatever you want to say. If you are feeling sad, or guilty about anything, I am not going to say that you shouldn't. Nor am I going to say that everything is absolutely fine when it isn't. But if there is one thing that I will say, till it finally permeates and percolates into your head, it is this: **_you are not guilty. It is not your fault._** " Harry made it a point to talk to her as gently as he could. He couldn't remember ever having spoken to her or checked on her well-being in the previous timeline. Well, he was correcting that now.

It was obvious that Harry's words were affecting Ginny. She started sobbing hard, her shoulders shaking as she let go of all the terrible experiences of the year past. Harry let her cry till she felt much lighter.

"So, Gin, will you tell me now?" Seeing that she was still not answering, Harry decided to open up a bit on his side. He told her what had happened in the chamber where the Mirror of Erised had been kept the previous year, up to the moment where he killed Quirrel. He spoke of the terrible nightmares that seeing Voldemort's face caused. He spoke of the prison that his relatives had made for him. He talked of having no contact, and of Dobby stealing his letters. "Did you know that I felt as if I was being rightly punished for killing somebody, even if he was a form of Voldemort? It was as if the Dursleys were wardens of that prison until Ron and the twins broke me out. I kept feeling as if Ron and Hermione as well as all my other friends in the magical world were ashamed of me, as if I disgusted them." By this time, Harry was sniffling a bit too. He added another point of hatred against Dumbledore. Somehow, spilling all that feeling of bitterness felt wonderfully cathartic. "Tell me, Gin, do you feel that I am dirty or besmirched in some way? Or that I am guilty?"

Ginny was looking at the boy that she was considering as _hers_ in a new light. He looked so vulnerable, nothing like anything that was portrayed in the stories. She thought about his words for a while, before she finally protested in a very small voice, "But my case is nothing like yours. Quirrel was not innocent by any stretch of imagination. I hurt innocent people. T-Tom took advantage of my foolishness! I am a monster!" Her voice and vehemence were both rising with each word.

"STOP RIGHT THERE, GINEVRA MOLLY WEASLEY!" Harry whispered angrily. "Are you even thinking about what you are speaking? Well let me shoot down your claim the 'Hermione' way. Let's play questions and answers. So tell me, who was the Heir of Slytherin?"

"T-Tom Rid-Riddle," stuttered Ginny.

"Correct. Was any part of his name Ginevra Molly Weasley?"

"No!"

"How did you find out about him?"

"I wrote in his diary."

"How does that make you the heir of Slytherin?"

"It doesn't!" Ginny replied indignantly. "It only makes me foolish!"

"Right again. How many years have you known about magic?"

"All my life," replied Ginny, uncertain as to where the conversation was leading to.

"So, was there any reason to check that Diary for any charms or such?"

"N-No, not really," Ginny started. "It could have easily been a prank."

"Now, I have checked that thing. Did you have any reason to **_recognise and overcome_** a compulsion charm, a triggered Imperius Curse and a soul leeching curse?"

Ginny's eyes widened as she heard the results of the investigation carried out on the diary. "No. But I still allowed it to use me to at-"

Harry cut across her again. "The operative word is 'use'. You did not allow that to happen. You were **_forced_** by the strongest Dark Lord in recent history to **_allow_** yourself to be used. Tell me, how many blank periods did you have? Five?"

"No, I surely had many more. Most certainly more than five," Ginny replied with conviction.

"How many attacks occurred, including Mrs. Norris?"

"Five."

"That proves that you were strong enough to fight off Tom for many more times. Now tell me, did you personally attack the petrified people? Did you personally petrify them?"

"No. That was the basilisk. But I still set it on to those poor people," Ginny cried out in panic.

"What is the proof? You had blank periods when the students were attacked. What proof exists to conclusively prove that Ginny Weasley and _not Tom Riddle_ set the Basilisk on the muggle-born students?"

"Nothing," Ginny said, calming down considerably.

"Now answer another question. How did you come by the diary?"

"Lucius Malfoy gave it to me."

"Why?"

"He wanted to cleanse the castle of 'mudbloods and squibs'," she spat angrily.

"Now, tell me what has happened to the Riddle in the diary, to the Basilisk, and to Lucius Malfoy?"

"You destroyed the diary, and the Riddle in the diary. You killed the basilisk. And, you had Malfoy sent to Azkaban."

"So the way I see it, two monsters are dead. One is in Azkaban. And as far as anyone of us knows, you most certainly don't want to kill anybody. Do you?"

"Not at all!" she said, in vehement refusal.

"Well then, how are you a monster?"

Ginny had no answer to this. Harry had logically destroyed her claim of being a monster. _AND_ there was no way that anything that he said could be refuted.

"Now, Ginny, tell me what nightmares have you been having?"

"H-how do you know?"

"You look sleepy; you have bags under your eyes; you look dead on your feet; that's ample proof to support my suspicion."

Ginny was now in a quandary. There was no way out, but she feared he would hate her when he would hear everything. So she spilled out it all. Tom's taunts; Harry saying that he didn't love her; Harry dying and accusing her of killing him; all the people who were attacked dying and hating her; all sorts of nightmares that played on in an endless loop. Harry listened patiently. Finally at the end, once she was done, he asked her calmly, "Do you think that if I blamed you for it all, I would have talked to you in the hospital wing or now?"

"No you wouldn't have."

"Is Tom alive? Well the other bits and pieces are, but is the Tom in the diary alive anymore?"

"No they aren't."

"Have I died? Have either of 'Mione, Justin, Penelope, Colin or Mrs. Norris died?"

"No," replied Ginny, starting to cry again.

"Has anyone blamed you? All of us met you after the whole fiasco was done with. Has your family blamed you?"

"No."

"Has anyone said that they hate you?"

"No," Ginny retorted, a little irritation at the interrogation colouring her voice.

"Then please listen to me, Ginny. Don't blame yourself, you were cursed. Now you are no longer cursed. That is all there is. Nobody hates you. We all should have protected you, and it is our failure that all this happened. Of us all, only Percy even came close to realising that there might even be something wrong with you. I am sorry, really." Harry's sincere, heartfelt apology touched Ginny.

"You said nothing about y-anyone not loving me..."

"Listen Ginny, all of us love you. I have never had my own family. The Weasleys are as close to that as can be. Hasn't anyone told you how you look just like my mum?"

"Yes. Everyone says that you look just like your father, and I look like your mother." The hope rose in Ginny's voice, and Harry knew it was time to mercilessly quash it.

"That's exactly what I am saying. Think of it this way. I look like my dad, but have my mum's eyes, while you look like mum, but your eyes are like dad's eyes. Isn't that an eerie description of a girl who could be my sister? Moreover, did you know we are fourth cousins? That means that we are actually related. I love you too, Ginny, and not just because of your resemblance to my mum. You are exactly as I imagined my little sister to be. Maybe, one day I will give you a book on muggle psychology and you will realise why loving you the way you want me to is just so... wrong and disturbing."

"But that means you don't-"

"Stop right there, Ginny! This is as close to my own family as I can remember (Harry knew he was going to get an acting award soon, irrespective of whatever Cassiopeia said). You I love like a sister, your brothers, I love like my own brothers. Isn't that enough? On the other hand, isn't this exactly what you told Tom? He told me what you think about me. I don't think any worse of you, based on that prat's words, but think about it. What age are you- Eleven going on twelve. Why would you even be thinking of any other kind of love yet? Isn't it enough that you are loved by us all? When eventually, somebody loves you _that_ way, you will have seven older brothers around to give that poor guy the "You hurt her and you are dead" speech. First of all, come out of the delusions that you have to measure up to somebody. You are a strong, iron-willed young woman. Nobody who can stave off Voldemort for that long can be considered weak, or needs any other qualifier. Become your own woman; learn to love yourself as we all love you. Study, get good grades, play Quidditch, make it to the Gryffindor and then the Holyhead Harpies and England teams as a Chaser. There is the whole world out there that you can win over. You have my word that I will be with you all as long as you want me. We will be at Hogwarts together for five more years. But you will be **_my_** little sister for as long as I live. I won't let anything happen to you. Trust me. Most importantly, trust yourself." He hugged the girl tightly as she let off some more distress through her tears. Then in a very teasing manner, he said, "No boyfriends for you till you are twenty at least, ickle Gin-Gin!" He suddenly swore "I, swear, that I will always be a good brother to Ginevra Molly Weasley, a seventh brother in the time of need!"

Ginny swatted him on his arm, and said fondly, if a little sadly, "Prat!"

Bill, Fred, George, Ron and Percy had all followed the pair discretely. They didn't distrust Harry, but they weren't willing to let anyone get too close to their sister. They had heard the whole conversation. Bill particularly, was very impressed with the way Harry had handled it all, even Ginny's crush on him. He knew that Ginny hadn't gotten over Harry; not by a long shot. Even he had turned green at the idea- it was more than disturbing. That was something all of them would have to help her with. Harry had tried his level best to set a precedent about the way in which they would have to treat Ginny, and Bill had to admit, Harry's way had worked. Seeing that they were ready to return to the house, he led his brothers back before his youngest 'brother' and sister could return.

When they were all done with their lunch, Harry asked for an empty vial. He extracted his memory of his conversation with Ginny, and gave the vial to Bill. "I know you five have heard everything that Ginny and I talked about. All the same, just show this memory to the mind healer. I sincerely hope that I have not caused further harm."

"How did you know we were there?" asked Bill incredulously as he accepted the vial. Harry just smirked and said, "Just another of my secrets." It was one of those things that Dumbledore did, always setting up perimeter charms to check for any eavesdroppers, especially where people wouldn't think to check. It made him look omniscient.

Bill just shook his head in wonder at the enigma that was Harry Potter. As they returned to the kitchen, they heard Ginny's laughter, the first in quite some time, though it was tremulous. Bill just cuffed Harry's shoulder, as Mrs. Weasley hugged him. It was a major victory for them all.

* * *

There was something that Harry wanted to ask Mrs. Weasley, purely as a friend of the Weasley family. He took the three eldest Weasleys to the kitchen for a private discussion. He was fidgeting as he tried to decide the way that he could ask her. "Mrs. Weasley? May I ask you something?"

"Of course, Harry, go on."

"You like cooking, don't you?"

"I do, yes," she replied, turning away from the kitchen top.

"Have you ever thought about making it a business?"

"Sorry?"

"The non-magical world, you know, it has lots of restaurants. I've never seen one in the magical world barring the Leaky Cauldron, and even that is a pub. If you would agree, we can all go to a fine-dining restaurant in the non-magical world. That way you will get to know how the restaurants work. You could own some space in Diagon Alley, or in Hogsmeade, and set up your own business. What you would have to actually do would be the organisation of daily menus, creating new dishes and the like. I mean, you cook some of the best food I have eaten, so why not capitalise on that, now that you have resources? I would happily finance the place if you would need me to. You could employ house-elves to do the actual cooking and serving." He waited for some time as she thought about what he said. "It wouldn't need to be a restaurant only; you could add a bakery or an ice-cream parlour to it too. In the non-magical world, such places have long-running patrons, particularly in the business cadre, and many deals are sealed over lunch or dinner. If we can market it well, over time, the place will earn quite some prestige. If you do decide to go with it, you will be required to chiefly, supervise the running of the place, and the nitty-gritty like stock, employment of people, pricing, recipes and so on."

The response came, and it was from Bill. "That is... actually a wonderful idea. Mum is an excellent cook, but as a restaurateur, it would be something of her own. It would help her create her own identity. So think about it, Mum."

Arthur put in his own two Knuts. "Both Bill, and Harry, are right Molly. Now, I will put it bluntly, because all of you here are people I can speak this freely with. My job with the Ministry doesn't really pay me well, so even though I like my job, I would leave it to help you. How much money does it yield, Harry?"

"That actually depends, sir. I could have Gringotts perform a feasibility study for it, if you would like. The point is that it would certainly be worth more than the Leaky Cauldron, and that is including the rooms that Tom lets. So a conservative estimate, and mind you, it could be far different, would be about twelve to fifteen thousand Galleons each year in profits, because the places may serve as impromptu conference rooms, or say a party hall or something like that. Not a measly sum is it?"

"Not at all!" agreed Arthur. "Given that my yearly pay is hardly a fifth of that, it would mean quite a lot." He looked to his wife, who had not yet responded. "Molly? What do you think?"

"Are you sure, Arthur? The Ministry is the safest place..."

"I am sorry to destroy your beliefs, ma'am, but no, the Ministry isn't safe. Fudge has been protecting Malfoy and his ilk, for Merlin's sake! Haven't you noticed how many of those that that faction fears are being subjugated by any means necessary? Mr. Weasley has been languishing in the position that has no power to actually do the job - sorry Mr. Weasley - and you are already under economic subjugation. I am sorry if I am overstepping my bounds."

"No. You are right. I faced trouble for raiding the Malfoy Manor," Arthur reported bitterly. "What you are describing is very much in keeping with what I have been facing. The Ministry is no good for me, and by extension, my sons."

"Precisely! As of this moment, you have the ability and opportunity to move past those shackles. You don't need the perceived security that Ministry job provided."

With what Arthur said, with Bill concurring and with Harry lobbying heavily against the Ministry, Molly's resistance was breaking down. It was not easy. Ever since Fabian and Gideon had been killed, her only objective had been ensuring the safety and the betterment of her family as she saw it. The Ministry was part of it. On the other hand, what was being suggested was actually a step towards the latter.

"I don't know what to think, Arthur. I like being a stay-at-home mother and a housewife, but-" she started as he twisted a small napking in her hands in nervousness.

"-With Ron, Ginny, Percy and the twins at Hogwarts ten months of the year, there is little for you to do," her husband completed. She nodded. "Well, that is an even better reason for you to think about this. I mean, Harry's idea, to start with, at least, is wonderful. We can go out and check out the restaurants after September. Nobody is forcing you, of course, but all three of us think it is something you could do." Both boys agreed with nods.

"Do think about it, Mrs. Weasley. I mean, today is the last time I'll see you before the start of term, but you could always write to me or to Gringotts, could you not? Go into muggle areas and places, check out how they operate the businesses, and talk to people in the magical world to find out what they would think about it. We could get important people to give you patronage, thereby increasing the word-of-mouth publicity. The novelty factor will also work in your favour. As far as I know, the British magical world has no knowledge of the culinary delights from other countries. You could introduce them to a wide range of culinary arts. I will help you in any and every way I can."

"Harry is right in that, Mum. Even if you halve his estimates, that will still leave you with a fairly large sum. And it is right up your alley, and fits well with your passion for cooking. I'll take you to such places in Egypt, and you can all go to different restaurants in England."

Molly sighed. She hadn't ever thought about such an avenue. And yet, not only was it surely profitable, but she was sure she would have the support of all her family and friends. That would be something if she did decide to pursue the idea. Looking at her husband and the two boys, each of whom was looking at her rather expectantly, she said, "I will think about it."

That elicited a happy grin from Bill, Arthur and Harry. On his part, Bill was happy that his parents were being given opportunities that they never had before. Arthur was happy because his beloved wife could be a woman of her own creation and her talents would be recognised. Both were immensely grateful to Harry for all that he'd been doing lately for them. It wasn't just the money, it was more about the way he was looking out for them and introducing them to new things.

Harry had to have the last word however. "At least that will force Ron to be well-mannered at the table," he said but only so that Bill could hear him. The young curse-breaker burst out laughing.


	14. Chapter 14

**Simmering Summer- III**

The Burrow had seen plenty of tears and tantrums over the loss of Scabbers by Ron, and over Harry making it clear that he only thought of her as a sister by Ginny. Ron's distress was understandable, as even if the rat had turned out to be Peter Pettigrew (something he didn't know), it was still his pet. He had ended up recalling the 'brave' things the rat had done; it had bitten Goyle for him. The rest of the Burrows occupants just decided to grin and bear it, till finally, Arthur decided to buy his youngest son an owl. _That_ perked Ron up considerably.

Ginny though, was proving to be a tough nut to crack. While she had acted as if she had understood, if not accepted what he said, once he had left she had promptly burst into an almost unending bout of tears. All her brothers tried to calm her down a bit, to no avail. Finally, when she calmed down a bit as they all started on their cups of a fortifying cup of tea, she said, half-shouting through her tears, "HE IS SUPPOSED TO MARRY ME, MUM, DAD! HE MUST LOVE ME!" At the word 'marry', all five elder brothers present choked on their tea, and started looking at her in an odd way. Ginny continued heedlessly, "HE WAS THERE, JUST LIKE IN THE STORIES THAT YOU TOLD ME ABOUT! HE SAVED ME, THE DAMSEL IN DISTRESS! WE'D LIVE HAPPILY EVER AFTER! HE KILLED THE MONSTER TO SAVE ME, AND WAS STANDING WITH THE WAND AND SWORD! THE STORIES WERE COMING TRUE, JUST AS YOU SAID THEY WOULD! "

"ENOUGH!" bellowed Percy. He had over the years, made several attempts to protect his sister from what he considered, quite rightly, brainwashing. He had implored, begged, and basically requested in every polite way for his parents to stop reading those stories to his sister. He had harboured a little grudge against the boy-who-lived, but after all that he had seen of Harry, he was entirely sure that the boy was much more than the persona that the books had created. This person was a power, both magically and politically. Most importantly, he had opened Percy's eyes about the world. In his totally unbiased opinion, stereotyping Harry into the boy-who-lived persona was the greatest insult anyone could think of.

Fred, George and Ron were appreciating Percy being their brother for the first time ever. All three of them had heard what Harry had said to Ginny, and totally agreed with their friend. He was behaving as a brother should with her, and moreover, was helping to give her some confidence. That Ginny was locked up in some fantasy was most certainly not his fault. They had never really understood why Percy hated Ginny being told the foolish fairy tales about Harry, but now faced with irrefutable evidence, they realised what Percy had been saying all along.

Turning to Bill, Percy vented his agitation, "Do you see now, Bill? I had been writing to you and Charlie as much as I could to get you to make our parents stop that nonsense! Ask them how many times I literally grovelled at their feet to stop telling Ginny about those stories! All of us heard what the boy said to Ginny. What was your impression of him?"

Percy threw the stack of the Harry Potter adventure books that he summoned from Ginny's room onto the table in front of Bill. "Read that utter dirt. Is Harry anything like that? We have seen and heard the real Harry Potter, who is a normal, vulnerable boy. True, he fought you-know-who twice more, and now we have reasons why he is not dead. Dad!" he burst out venomously at his father, who flinched at his third son's voice. "You, Bill and I know what that boy is really dealing with! Is he the boy from the fairy tales? I will be the first to accept that I held a little grudge against him for all his heroics, out of jealousy perhaps! These three," he said pointing at his younger brothers, "freed him from the jail those muggle relatives had put him into! Those stories never touched the real person! He has been left and forgotten by our world time and again, while everyone else benefitted from his sorrow! Those people who wrote these books, have never known what those muggles did to him, they just kept on benefitting monetarily. How else do you think Dad's car-shed was open last summer when they went to rescue him? I had been observing him. He isn't anything like those books Ginny; he is doing what we all should do. He is trying to be a better brother to you! Accept it!"

"You!" yelled Ron, Fred and George in unison.

"Yes. Me."

"All that IS BESIDES THE POINT!" yelled Ginny. "I AM NOT HIS SISTER! IF HE CAN'T LIKE ME NORMALLY, WE CAN ALWAYS GIVE HIM LOVE POTIONS LIKE MUM GAVE DAD!"

SLAP! Arthur Weasley had had a poor day, starting with the discovery of Pettigrew, and now to hear his daughter speak of such things made the usually calm man lose his temper (Only the brief discussion about the restaurant had gone well). The day ended even poorly, as he slapped his daughter, hard. With a voice trembling with rage, Arthur spoke to his daughter, "Yes, Molly did give me potions. But, and you listen to this well, you idiotic girl, both she and I loved each other, but I was feeling quite cowardly to blurt it out. My friends had told her that I loved her. As for you dosing Harry, let me remind you that he is the presumptive Lord of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Potter. The Ancient House of Weasley is a vassal of the House of Potter. We are talking about the Liege-lord of our House too. If, and let me reiterate again, if, he seems to fall for you, I will have him checked for Potions, and I am sure that the test will be positive, as we know that he has sworn an Oath. And, should it so happen, that I find him to be under such influence, then daughter or no, I will personally hand you over to the authorities. Whatever you are talking about is called Line Theft, and has the punishment of the Dementor's Kiss."

Ginny burst into renewed tears as she had never expected this. Bill continued, "As Heir Weasley, I second what the Head of the House says. All of us asked him if there was any way we could serve him, and he brushed it off, calling no debt between family members. He has kept on helping us. We owe him a lot, even though he doesn't recognise that. Try to trouble Harry that way, and I personally will write down a life debt request against you, Ginevra, daughter of House Weasley. We are in perennial debt of the House Potter over several generations, and the last of that line has only helped us more than any of his ancestors have. We are honour bound to serve him in his time of need, to be loyal to him and to earn and retain his trust. He did try to convince you to not consider yourself a monster, but your behaviour and even the thought of trying to manipulate him is monstrous."

Molly had been quiet all along, but the mother could no longer leave the matter when her baby girl was crying and distraught. "Arthur, Bill, can't you let her be? It's just a simple infatuation!" she said sharply. "I am quite sure she will get over that!"

"She won't!" retorted Arthur vociferously. "She shouldn't even have such delusions at her age. She told You-know-who about it, Molly! When Harry told us to take her to a mind-healer, I doubt that even he was thinking about this. This won't continue. Listen now, and listen hard. Five of our kids think of that boy as their brother. He thinks of them all as his siblings, Ginny included. I don't see that ever changing. Do not try and take matters into your own hands about this! Am I clear? I am sorry, I slapped you Ginny, but I have realised that you are delusional. And I'm sorry that I ignored your warnings, Percy."

Harry's visit, unknown to him was the harbinger of much tumult in the Weasley family.

* * *

While they all did not like the idea of having their memories wiped, they knew exactly why it was needed. A magical oath was binding, recorded in the Book of Oaths, and that had destroyed their chance at power. At the end of the day, Peter Pettigrew, but not Harry's insinuations about Dumbledore were by force of oath, forgotten. They were honour-bound to keep his secrets.

* * *

Cassiopeia sat watching over her charge, and cursed whoever had come up with the ridiculous rule to wipe out the memories till it was the last chance. She felt very bad for shouting at the kid, for that was what he truly was, when he came in the last time. With the knowledge of things to come, he could have gone all out and destroyed the whole timeline and basically run amok with the knowledge. Instead, he had used it as one would use a fine trickle of potable water in a desert: sensibly.

While she hadn't thought of the basilisk carcass, she had to admit that it was a masterstroke at generating funds for whatever ideas he was going to implement. A million galleons was nothing to be sniffed at. By providing for the people who were affected by the basilisk and helping them have some magical status, he already had gained proper friends. Percy Weasley who in the previous timeline had become a ministry stooge was now a formidable ally with a newfound outlook and view towards those in authority; provided he was handled with care. She had only helped him incriminate Dumbledore a bit, and the boy had taken it to bring down Lucius Malfoy who could only be given a trial out of courtesy, but with its outcome already known. Pettigrew would be out of commission soon, but he was already under the best lock and key possible. Sirius would soon be free. She was very happy with the progress her charge had made already. Buying the house at Privet Drive, that was a clever move. And he would still be better protected, in every fathomable way.

Harry woke up with much better spirits. Cassiopeia had been cautiously optimistic about the early changes effected by their combined meddling through time. If Harry could've made a checklist, it would have seen many checked boxes. Weasleys managed; Peter caught; Neville and Luna befriended; Sirius reawakened; Minerva McGonagall taken out from under Old Man Whiskers' thumb; yes, it was quite a decent list. She had also explained that Percy Weasley had become an important ally from the point of view of the Wizengamot, as he now had been diverted from the path of mindlessly following rules to understanding their sense in context. The last time around, he had only heard of Harry doing things, but hadn't seen any proof. Now that he had, and had understood the scenarios that Harry had painted, he had grown to respect the boy. "Useful," thought Harry.

Somehow, though, her demeanour made him very nervous. She had very nervously told him that she had some plans for Hermione for later in the summer. Harry was unsure as to whether this was good or bad. Also, she had cryptically told him something about the two purest forms of magic and the concept of gene pools not mixing well and throwing up some wildly interesting results. Unsure as to exactly what to make of that, Harry left it for another time. What worried him, though, was the simple fact that she had plans for Hermione. Truly, worried was a massive understatement. It was a Reaper having plans for her after all.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore sat in his office, poring over several sheaves of documents and letters as he prepared for the ICW meeting in Brazil where he would be presiding as the Supreme Mugwump. There were several trade related issues, as also issues regarding the magical involvement in the terrorist tensions brewing in the Indian Subcontinent. "Violence," he mused with a self-appreciative smile and a look of saintly disdain for the practitioners of violence, "is for the weak. It causes a person to lose sight of the beautiful and terrible thing that is truth." He wondered when he had accepted the thoughts of the muggle Indian national leader who had propounded these and similar thoughts. It was a shame that the whole philosophy of forgiveness, non-violence and remorse and regret on the part of the offenders was practised in a way that destroyed justice and caused far more trouble than if immediate and severe punishment and justice had been meted out.

A letter from a former student grabbed his attention. Remus Lupin had sent in his application for the post of the DADA professor. He grimaced at this. Bringing Remus back would mean an obvious contact between the man and Harry. He had worked relentlessly to prevent the two ever being in contact, as it would have been against the Greater Good if ... he would have to scratch that phrase. However Harry had learnt of it, Dumbledore did not know. Returning to his train of thought, Dumbledore realised that now that Harry had no need to sacrifice himself, it did not make any sense to keep them apart anymore. Now that he knew the number of Horcruxes that Voldemort had made, and two of them were destroyed, with his prophesied one alive, it would help to have a werewolf on his side to infiltrate the packs again. The James and Lily Potter Institute was an inspired funding from the boy, and Dumbledore was happy that he had found a way to reach out to that community. It would help with the war when it eventually came, as he knew it would. The other part of this was that Harry would now need real training. Now that he was no longer a pig raised for slaughter, he would be heralded as the Champion of the Light, as the Hero that their world needed. Remus, he decided was the perfect start to that step. He also had the benefit of being someone from Harry's past. This was a person who could be used to appease the boy and bring him to heel, as he should have always been. In his opinion, Harry should have felt blessed to be taken as Dumbledore's apprentice.

"Well," decided Dumbledore, "I am going to sit on this till I return in three weeks time. Remus Lupin should better be useful to me."

* * *

It was Friday when Harry let the three Dursleys out of their imprisonments and erased their memories of their punishments being meted out. After a dose each of Pepper-up potion to the three, he got them all to get themselves cleaned. He was not surprised to find them unresisting. They were still reliving their worst times, memories and actions. Harry had to make sure that they were ready for that afternoon, when Bill, Goldhaul and Biggem would come to buy the houses as they had intimated. With magical contracts, a little compulsion for the readers to agree, and the transfer of Harry's custody legally to Sirius via Biggem, and an approved architectural layout of the Marauders' Place as he had named it, ready, it was only the mere formality of the signatures and construction that remained. Harry had personally checked on the fact that the blood ward monitors in Dumbledore's office were working; he had placed a deceiving charm on the instruments, along with a coupled monitor to alert him whenever there was any discrepancy. It would not do for Dumbledore to know about his plans till he was safely ensconced behind a Fidelius and the old man could at best remember only the area and nothing more.

At exactly quarter past four that evening, Bill and the two goblins arrived at #4, having already completed the business with the owners of #2 and #6, each with prior appointment. Over two timelines, Harry had long since decided not to question the efficiency of Gringotts when they would be paid, as also the wonders of magic, even when it came to dealing with bureaucratic procedures. Harry cajoled the nearly catatonic Dursleys into getting ready for the meeting. He had managed to convince them, somehow, that they had been ill, that he didn't know what to do, and that he had tried to ask them to allow him to use the telephone to call the doctor, but hadn't received any response; and that they had agreed to this meeting but had likely forgotten. Their poor mental and thereby, physical states had made them quite susceptible to his words, and it never registered with them that they were being convinced by their hated nephew.

With a decent bid of a hundred thousand pounds, it was never going to be a doubt that the Dursleys would agree. In the end, it was an extremely illegal and unethical way in which they relinquished whatever little hold they had on Harry. It only took ten thousand pounds more, to sign him over to the custody of the new owner, and to legally disown him. Harry, who was snickering inwardly at this show, marvelled at the oblivious behaviour of the three Dursleys. Even with their disguises, the Goblins' anger was very easily displayed on their new visages, as it was on Bill's. Their disgust with the Dursleys for effectively selling their nephew to some unknown person was causing a slight shake to the house and rattling of windows as they almost lost control of their magic, but Harry's rather exuberant and illuminating smile calmed them to a great extent. And so it was, that at a combined cost of four hundred and thirty eight thousand pounds including taxes and paperwork, Harry became the proud owner of three properties, and of his own freedom. It was only later that he learnt that the document itself had compulsion charms on it. That was alright in his books. The possession of the properties that he would receive two days later meant that he only had to go through the construction plans again, and approve them. That was an excellent starting point for communications with Luna and Neville. They would have great suggestions for the gardens.

The plans for the house were very simple, as far as the architectural elaboration went. Harry had always favoured the old elegance that was evident in both the Gothic Revival and Queen Anne styles of architecture, though the former was more often seen in churches and such other places of worship. To Harry, it added the peace and tranquillity that he would choose to associate with a home. He had deliberately planned it in such a way that it would lay more to the side of the property that was number six. It was to be a structure with three wings. A central minaret that would house a very large telescope at the top (that was more for Sirius' benefit; the man had almost eidetic knowledge of muggle advancements in space research, though not the engineering aspects. His love for astronomy was the only thing he shared with his father) was the top of a structure that acted as a bridge on the second level and a storage area on the lower level. Its height was designed to be at roughly four stories. The three wings, arranged in an incomplete equilateral triangle around the minaret, were equal in size, but dissimilar in design.

The facing wing had, oddly, certain symmetry to it. With two garage bays as the flanks, the central house had a steep sloping pitched roof. It didn't have any bedrooms. It had a front porch with ornately carved arches on three sides, which overlooked the designed gardens on two sides of the cobbled approach path, which diverged towards the garage bays. It housed the main living area, a small hall where Harry planned to install the Floo network, and a room where portraits- existing or newly commissioned- would be hung, all on the lower floor, both of them adjoining a congregation hall with space expansion charms. The upper and lower stories would house the prodigiously extensive Potter library with a magical ladder and indexing system. A small room where Harry planned to install a computer, a television and other non-magical amenities would be on the second storey. Adjoining to these would be a pathway to the corridor to the central minaret and the other wings, as well as a reading room. Harry had decided to use extensions and projections for better lighting. He intended for this wing to have cooling charms instead of air-conditioning instruments, but otherwise, electricity would be the real source of light. The electrical would be isolated with runic arrays to prevent concentration of magical energy, causing any sort of interference. Harry compared it to a Faraday's cage, only acting in the reverse manner, preventing outside magical energy from coming into contact with the electrical charges inside.

The eastern wing was the place where Harry had big plans. This would fall more in the property of the erstwhile numbers 2 and 4. It would be L-shaped, with two towers that would have charmed windows shaped like large open arches that would create an illusion of country scenery. The house itself would have a kitchen and adjoining dining area, and accommodation for the house-elves on the lower storey. The second level would have a non-magical gymnasium and duelling room, as well as a potions lab and a healing room. A chimney shaft from the kitchen would extend to the level slightly above the towers, which had smoke banishing charms set at its top, just as they would for the of the shafts for the Floo network fireplaces.

The western wing, which fell more in the precincts of the erstwhile number six, would overlook a small vegetable patch, where Harry intended to grow his own vegetables. This wing would have the bedrooms. It had been planned in such a way as to have the upper storey with projections and bay windows and galleries to each of the bedrooms, instead of conventional plane surfaces. An attic which would double up as an Owlery would be in the sloping- roofed projection structure on the third and topmost storey. The lower two stories housed nine bedrooms in all, with two sets of bathrooms and toilets on each floor. A very clever idea of using enclosed cupboard-like spaces for the plumbing and wiring to keep it all concealed, yet accessible enough for repairs was to be incorporated. That was something that Harry had added. The muggle-born architect, Andrew Wilshere, a Gryffindor who had graduated five years before Harry started, had planned the house with inputs from Harry. Being a magical house, they had incorporated various tricks and ideas to ensure natural lighting and dispelling shadows due to the daily cycle of the sun, by using mirrors, light manipulation and energy redirection charms and runes. Harry was highly irritated with himself for not taking that elective in the previous timeline, having seen its myriad uses, just in the field of magical house construction. The typical exteriors used for both construction styles were to be used.

There were a few more additions that Harry had particularly chosen. A small deep pond of water with a magically modified motor to keep the water from becoming stagnant stood at the far end of the property. It was small enough to fit, but large enough for two or three people to swim in. Just underneath the central minaret, right under the tower was to be a basement which could be locked with reinforced steel doors. It also had magical ventilation. This was chiefly for Moony's benefit.

On the whole, Harry was supremely pleased with the slightly odd and quirky mix of a house. It was something he had always envisioned as his own place. Now, he had the people to fill it with too. With the three families set to leave in a matter of a week (#2 and #6 were evacuating by Monday; a part of rather immaculate two way planning with the Dursleys being taken care of the last), Harry asked the Wards-specialists to start placing ward-stones around the three properties, as unobtrusively as possible. He then proceeded to build himself a small shed using several sheets of asbestos and planks of wood in the backyard of number four. Just because the Dursleys would soon leave, he didn't feel obligated to behave as if they really were family. Whatever Dudley had said a year ago was too little, too late. He had washed his hands off them, just as they had disowned him in all but words.

* * *

Away in the cell in Azkaban, Sirius received a small Hamper, and a message. "Hey! Old mutt! House deals done! Construction starts next week, I have got a kennel for you. Be ready, you will be escaping next to next week, at night. Just a few days until Fudge's inspection left. I am using that time to gather some resources for your health. Be calm, Dogfather, and follow the plan. You will get another full-scale Happiness Hamper tomorrow and yet another one two days later. Remember, you **_must_** be seen by Fudge when he turns up for his annual inspection next Friday. Albus "The Bloody Bastard" Dumbledore leaves tomorrow night for his ICW meet in Brazil, so we have to have that little delay. Sorry about that one, Sirius. Got a place for both Remus Lupin and Moony, but he won't know till we free you and he **_earns_** our forgiveness. Remain as Padfoot now! Remember the password."

"Death to the Rat," murmured Sirius, happy, now that the plan had been set into motion. He started with his escape practice. As a dog, he moved around his cage to free his stiff muscles, before flitting in and out of the cage for about an hour. He was soon crossing down to the lower levels of the gaol and very close to the exit. He very, _very_ discretely crept out and then promptly returned. The moonlight that he bathed in and the salty smell of the slightly fresher air invigorated him and cleared his head. He returned to his cell as soon as he could, and vowed to practice this till his escape. He sincerely hoped that Prongslet would send him a full sized Happiness Hamper; the swim to the mainland was going to be very cold.

As he sat back in his cell, Sirius wondered why the kid had a bone to pick with Dumbledore. Sirius held a grudge against the old man for not giving him the courtesy of the trial. Perhaps the pup had picked that up. But he could sense that there was more than just that to the matter. This wasn't a dispute; it was outright enmity between the two. He decided to keep that matter for later, he was sure he would get his answers from Harry. In the meanwhile, he had the jail food to savour for the last few days.

What surprised him more, however, was how he knew that Moony needed different accommodation. The way Pup had phrased his message it was obvious that he knew the difference between Moony and Remus. He was pretty sure that they had never mentioned Moony's affliction around him. Had he worked it out like Lily had done?

* * *

The next day, Harry was back at Gringotts for his business with Rita Skeeter. After the customary greetings with Goldhaul and Biggem, the three waited in the lobby to receive the journalist. She came in at just the appointed time, half past ten that morning. The three goblins knew that this was not the best person to meet as one started the day for business, but had decided to grin and bear it.

Forgoing any formality or polite greetings, the witch put on her best simpering smile, and then grabbed Harry by the shoulder, digging in her coloured, long nails. Harry winced imperceptibly. "What a pleasure to meet the Boy-Who-Lived in flesh! I am sure we shall have very fruitful business! Would you be amenable to an exclusive interview about your time in the magical world? Where were you hidden for the ten years before Hogwarts? Why do you feel the need to communicate with the Goblins? How did you come to enter any business transaction with them? What-"

Harry lost his temper, but it would have reflected poorly on Gringotts, and he had no intention to be guilty of such a disgrace. Quickly schooling his face into an expressionless mask, he interrupted her, "Miss Skeeter, I believe that you have left behind your previous profession of journalism. Unless I remember wrong, the terms of the contract stipulated that as a requirement. Breach of trust will not go unpunished." Goldhaul and Biggem glared at the woman to add to the effect. When predictably, Rita quailed, he asked, "I believe it is time to commence business for the day?"

The quartet soon moved to Biggem's office. Harry had met anyone inside Gringotts only in the conference room. He had never seen a personal office before. Biggem's office was sparsely furnished, and held a very intricately carved black marble desk and seating arrangements. The engravings were embellished with several gems. The room looked much like a tall cavern, with an unnatural, but not unpleasant, coolness to it. Waiting for the two Account Managers to sit, Harry then opened the discussions. "Ms. Skeeter, I believe that you have read the letter that Gringotts sent to you on my behalf. If I may ask, what have you comprehended about this project? What have you interpreted of the offer? Do you find any discrepancies in the planning?"

The questions, asked in a plain, inflectionless monotone, made the rabid reporter stop to think before answering. She spoke, rather respectfully, after a small period of silence, "Mr. Potter, Harry, if I may call you that? Firstly I would like to ask you a few questions. Why did you feel that this, _project_ , as you call it is necessary?"

"Good. It is a sign of prudence on your part to not be swayed by the allure of money. At this point, the DMLE and Gringotts have both been given proof that Tom Marvolo Riddle, also known as Voldemort," (they ignored her violent wince) "is alive. That is all I will say. I believe Master Biggem and Master Goldhaul will explain things better. But firstly: your first oath."

They handed her a written oath, which she took unhesitatingly. Harry believed that it had more to do with the four armed Goblin guards surrounding her as she took the piece of parchment. "I, Rita Sophia Skeeter, do hereby swear on my life and my magic, that I shall not divulge any word that I hear spoken among the People of the Nation, or any word spoken to me, by word of mouth or publication, by name or under anonymity. I shall not divulge anything through any third party, or through wilful callousness, through hints or any sort of carelessness. Should I choose not to go through with the deal, I hereby give express permission to have my memory of the meeting erased, under authority of the People of the Nation. As I say, so I swear!" A flash of light surrounded her in acceptance of this oath.

And so the goblins, masters at information control for business and war alike, gave Rita Skeeter enough information to accept the truth, that Voldemort was indeed, not as dead as he seemed to be. That shook the woman quite a bit, and she had to be given a shot of Firewhiskey to keep her calm. It was then that she was given an in-depth description of the job that they had for her. As they did so, Rita started to wear a most curious expression. On one hand, the risks involved made her feel paler with each word, while the idea of money and dirt on several 'upstanding' people got the mercenary of a reporter excited beyond words. Harry was hard pressed to suppress his chuckle, and only just about managed to swallow his laughter. When Biggem and Goldhaul were done, Rita was unnaturally quiet for some time. Harry decided to sweeten the deal, while showing a card that could have been used much better later. "Let me sweeten the pot for you a bit. If you decide to help us **_bug_** the targets, we can ensure that your secret will be protected legally without creating a **_buzz._** Moreover, we will clog all sources of intelligence by which those that you have ruined before- rightly or wrongly- will come to know about your deviousness."

Rita's eyes widened at that. She had caught on to the different inflections that Harry had given to the two words. Now, she had descended into a position where she simply had to take the correct decision. Her secrets were known to these people, and it was enough to ruin her completely, if it was ever to be divulged. At the same time, it was an opportunity of a lifetime. She realised that there was only one correct decision. "I accept," she replied circumspectly.

"Very good," replied Harry with mock joviality. "I believe, then, that we should progress to the contract." For all practical purposes, the contract was just a formality. With an extremely tasty carrot, and an extremely strong stick, Rita knew that she had been cornered right and proper. At last they came to the Unbreakable Vows. Harry and Rita kneeled, clasping right hands, with Bill, who had been called up for the very task of being their bonder stood beside them.

"With the witnesses, Biggem and Goldhaul of the People of the Nation, I William Arthur Weasley, do hereby execute my duties as the bonder for the Unbreakable Vows between Rita Sophia Skeeter and Hadrian James Potter, also known as Griffinheart of the People. Do you agree?"

Rita nodded with wide eyes at the mention of Harry's Goblin name, as did Harry and the two goblins.

"Do you, Rita Sophia Skeeter, accept the business proposal awarded to you by the Nation on behalf of Griffinheart? Do you swear to perform your duties as stipulated with utmost loyalty to the Nation?"

"I do."

A twirl of fire enclosed the clasped hands from Bill's wand.

"Do you, Rita Sophia Skeeter, swear to gather true evidence, verifiable physically or under truth serum? Do you swear to not speculate, but to gather real, hard proof?"

"I do." Another twirl of fire enclosed their clasped hands.

"Do you, Rita Sophia Skeeter, swear to turn over all evidence to Chief Bones personally, or to Masters Biggem and Goldhaul, without tampering or resorting to any sort of subterfuge, and to not keep any copy, physical or in memory for your personal benefit?"

That meant that she would have her memory of her spying erased. It was difficult, but she had been explained that it was also a protection for her- to give her plausible deniability. "I do." Another twirl of fire joined the first two.

"Do you, Rita Sophia Skeeter, swear to never print or leak any benign or malicious information, true or false, against the following: Sirius Orion Black, Remus John Lupin, Amelia Susan Bones, the Auror department- barring for any exceptions that may be notified to you at a later date, Hadrian James Potter, Hermione Jean Granger and family, the Weasley family, Minerva Rowena McGonagall, Regulus Arcturus Black, and any other name to be notified later on, on a contract-parchment to be signed by you after this oath, unless otherwise intimated?"

"I do."

"Do you, Hadrian James Potter, swear to protect Rita Sophia Skeeter's secrets and protect her if she is hurt or injured- not including death, during the course of her duties pertaining to this contract, and to pay her appropriately?"

"I do." The five twirls of fire glowed brightly for a second, before coalescing and then wearing off.

"As I say, so I swear!" intoned the three humans, in perfect unison. Harry smirked. A large monster had just been unleashed.

* * *

Ginny's tantrum is a nod to Driftwood1965's Harry Potter and the Future's Past. I hope he updates soon.


	15. Chapter 15

**Radical Revamping**

Now that he had got a definitive indicator with Rita Skeeter's sources in the Ministry for the date when Fudge would go out to Azkaban for his inspection, Harry decided to put Sirius' affairs aside for the time being. Sirius knew enough to get the Dementor guard around his cell reduced by acting catatonically vacant and insane, so there was little that Harry could do for him apart from the Happiness Hampers before his escape. He turned his attention towards the other pressing matters that he had to deal with. Truth be told, there were several of them. If he was to be a successful technomancer, he decided, he would have to straddle the inventions and sciences of energy and machines in both realms. That meant he would have to have an engineering degree. That had to start with knowledge of the corresponding age relevant non-magical courses, particularly the sciences and maths.

The problem was with the reentry into the mundane records system. Fortunately, Gringotts' parallel services had the motto: "Anything for the right price"; and while that often went off against Wizard's law, the Law, most assuredly, didn't apply to the People and the Nation. They were a sovereign state unto themselves.

There was literally so much to do. He had to complete the summer essays and homework. He had to come to terms with his increased magical power; he had been having several bouts of accidental magic lately. He had to make sure that he learnt right up to the required level for the GSCE course. He had to go to the Ministry with the application for the house in Godric's Hollow. For some reason, the Ministry had declared it to be some sort of heritage or war memorial site, and for Harry, that was the last thing he wanted associated with that place. He had already contacted his legal advisors, and they had put in an affidavit challenging the seizure of the site without express permission from the last living heir of the legal owner.

That apart, he had to find the perfect time within the ensuing two weeks to claim the Head of House Positions, that time frame would ensure that Dumbledore would be unable to meddle and the one week process would be done before his return from wherever it was that the ICW meet was to be held. There was his parents' will yet to be read, apart from the daily supervision that would be required for the construction process of Marauders' place. In the previous timeline, both Moony and Padfoot had mentioned that his family had several investments in the magical world. With the Headships, taking certain decisions regarding about his finances, relations with the general magical community in his position as the Head of House, all came under the ambit of his new responsibilities. At least Sirius would be able to help with that. He remembered that Sirius intended to achieve his Mastery in Arithmancy. Maybe he could learn more than just about his family and academics from his godfather.

He also had to contact Neville and Luna, apart from Hermione. He had plans to revive the alliances of the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Potter, but that was something to be done only after Sirius' exoneration and with his help. He had to contact Luna. It wasn't any sort of obligation, but rather, in a way, a labour of love. He would write to her, if for no other reason, to reassure her of his friendship and loyalty to her. The Luna of the other timeline had made a very beautiful work of art on the ceiling of her room, and that was after only two years of friendship. To Harry, Luna was a person who needed to be believed in by others, loved by others, just so she could believe and love herself. Then there was Neville. The Patronus had made Neville very open, and that was really unnatural. Harry surmised that it was more of an adrenaline rush through the sheer joy and excitement of achievement. Following up on that, was just as important. He had to go meet his Godmother, something he hadn't done in the previous timeline. He had yet to receive any missive from Madam Longbottom regarding any appointments with Gringotts' healers, but was quite entirely sure that she would be interested. He himself wanted a proper examination of the scar done, along with a complete physical and magical check-up.

Then there was Andromeda 'Andi' Tonks that he had to get in touch with. He was still undecided about Snape, but that was no reason to sabotage his Potions studies any further, when he had a chance of improvement. He wondered if he could ask for private tutors for specific subjects. If that was the case, Andi was going to have at least two new students (Neville included). He had also been thinking of studying ahead and completing at least some of his core courses till the NEWT Level by his Fifth year. That would help him devote more time to his non-magical degree studies. Lately, he had been feeling pretty ambitious as far as his academic and personal life was concerned. He had to prove himself as his parents' son, Sirius' and Alice's godson, Moony's honorary nephew and Granny Min's grandson, not to mention Hermione's soul-mate. "No pressure there, mate," he mocked himself. But it was in having these lofty ambitions and actually working towards them that he had started to have a sense of anticipation, a little pride and contentment. After all, Voldemort wasn't, as Cassiopeia had said, the be all and end all of his life.

* * *

A major matter of worry for him was the way in which Sirius could be kept in contact and treated. Harry had promised Granny Min that they would live together for some part of the summer at least, and that astute woman would immediately recognise the dog as an animagus, if not as Sirius himself. Sirius would also need a safe-house, and Harry was pretty sure that neither Grimmauld Place, nor the Cottage in Godric's Hollow would allow Sirius to regain whatever passed as sanity for the man, and in fact would be detrimental. He had informed the Tonkses about Sirius, but that was most assuredly a matter of professional confidentiality. A man of Ted Tonks' honour would hardly let the love of his wife override that oath. Also with Nymphadora Tonks close to completing her Auror academy training soon at the Brighton school. It was an exercise in idiocy to tell her at about the same time that she would start her career in Law Enforcement regarding her escaped cousin's innocence. "Cassiopeia! I thought I would have it easy with my knowledge of the future! It was easier to hunt Horcruxes!"

As the days went by, Harry fell into an easy routine. As the Dursleys completely ignored him, a favour which Harry happily returned with interest, Harry had a fairly free reign. An early morning and a three mile run, followed by pull-ups, crunches, sit-ups and the like as well as several flexibility exercises to start getting into really fit shape. There were two main reasons for this. Harry had largely been very small for his age. He didn't know how much of it was caused by the core binding and the bloody Horcrux, but whatever be the cause, he had been fairly puny. His father, Sirius, Moony were all above 6' in height, and Harry was sure that genetically, that was achievable. The other reason was that malnutrition, which had been perpetrated by the starvation by Dursleys, was reason enough for Sirius to truly become a murderer.

The exercise routine was followed by three hours of school-work. He remembered having shirked the work last time around. It was only after he had reached Diagon Alley that he had completed his homework, with Florean Fortescue (another person who was still alive, Harry reminded himself) helping him immensely with the History of Magic stuff. This time he started with a revision of his first and second year textbooks. It was only when he was sure of the material did he create a rough draft of his homework. He had every intention of poring through all levels of books to find a satisfactory description of every theory and concept. Slacking was not an option; it never should have been and in reality wasn't, he rued.

Once he was done with that he would meditate for an hour. In that time, he would reconcile himself with the vagaries of the two timelines, comparing people, their actions, reactions, words, thoughts, and so on and so forth. When work on the three plots started, he got his shed isolated with silencing charms and cooling charms, as well as a window of sorts to keep an eye on the work. He came to several startling conclusions, but it also raised several questions. He was really bothered by several observations regarding the Weasleys even with the fealty oaths thingy, and even about some others.

First of all: the Weasleys. There was Ron. No other compartment was empty? Really? He wondered how he had been foolish enough to not scoff at that. Ron, over the years, had always shown jealousy that had always been quick to rise to the fore every time Harry showed some sort of achievement or was given anything that the redhead didn't have. What sort of a friend did that make him? He wanted Hermione **_because_** she was important to Harry, nothing else. He treated Hermione as a _thing._ That meant that every time Harry achieved something, Ron would want to have just that very thing just to prove himself better than Harry. In the previous timeline, Harry had kept himself constrained to his triumvirate. Was he really just a conquest for the boy?

Then there was Molly. The woman had nine family members, not to mention any other close family like that harridan of an Aunt, Muriel. All taken into consideration, the woman had to knit at least fifteen or so jumpers. Why was he added to the list? Was it pity? Lee Jordan, Alicia Spinnet, Angelina Johnson or Katie Bell, all of whom were the twins' friends, never received a single present. Why had he been singled out? Even Hermione never received a jumper. Even apart from him telling them about never receiving a present, they somehow seemed to know about how he had been treated at the Dursleys. How did they know? Why did they know? Were they all Dumbledore's stooges?

In both timelines, the Weasley family seemed to think that Harry somehow owed them something; that he owed it to them to consider them his family. Why? Why did they behave as if they somehow **_owned_** Hermione and him? A sudden cold thought gripped Harry. What if, they were all really closet pureblood purists, but knowing the loss of magical potency due to inbreeding, simply wanted him and Hermione as breeding stock? They were both much more powerful by far than any of the Weasleys. Was it a way to bolster their line? This time they had some money due to the Basilisk. Was the brainwashing of Ginny simply a way to marry her off into a much higher line? He still didn't have the answer to Cassiopeia's pronunciation about Ginny. There was so much that didn't add up.

What if there was some sort of loyalty charm or potion keyed to them, already in Hermione's or his system?Why did the interval between Ron's departure and return during the hunt coincide with the time that Hermione behaved as the real Hermione Granger? Ron was most certainly not adept at potion making, and Bill had testified that Ron had been at Shell cottage for the whole time. Was even Bill an accomplice?

Arthur often blatantly went against the very laws he claimed to support or uphold. Case in point: the blasted Ford Anglia. For a person who was an authority on muggles, he knew absolutely nothing about the non-magical people. Was his interest an act? Or was it just a way to escape from his wife after discovering that she had dosed him with love potions? Or was it all an outcome of continuous dosing that had addled his brains?

Charlie truly meant nothing in the long term plan. Percy on the other hand was drawn to power. As of that moment, with the presumptive Headship of three Houses, two of them being among the Most Ancient and Most Noble, and the third being a House of a Founder, Harry surely held power. That made Percy a useful, yet dangerous acquaintance.

"I hate this. I never should've been Ron's friend. I just hope that the time comes soon when I can dispose off that friendship with a clean break," he moaned. He thanked his stars for the oath of the Vassal otherwise Dumbledore's stooges would have warned him as soon as they could. He resolved to never let them in on any of his secrets from that moment onwards, and to be on guard against them. He felt a little pride for his knack for asking for oaths of very accurate wordings, and accepting them in very well-managed circumstances, and regret that he hadn't exercised that with the Weasleys.

(A/N: This was the paranoia kicking in.)

Then there was Snape. For all the claims about Lily being Snape's one true love, Harry could see them as the biggest delusions ever. Love, meant being happy with the happiness of the loved one, irrespective of the cost to the one who loved. Snape had called his mother a mud-blood, unable to let go of his newfound ideals in favour of his only true friend. She had found happiness in her husband and son. Snape on the other hand had given the Dark Wanker a part of the prophecy that led to his parents' deaths. He also had the audacity to ask his master to spare her life, expecting to comfort her after the death of her husband and son. Severus Snape was nothing more than a pervert. That he expected to be respected for 'returning to the light' as Dark Lord Dumbledore claimed, was as much a farce as could be. Then there was the fact that nobody truly ever knew whom he truly worked for. He had after all aided and abetted the murder of several Order members. Harry was pretty sure that this was done with Dumbledore's tacit support. Besides, a real spy, would keep both sides guessing about his actual loyalties, and be more observant, instead of blatantly projecting an image directly supporting the Death Eater camp. That made a liar out of Snape, Voldemort, or Dumbledore; though the truth was that all three were liars in their own right. Severus Snape would have to be taken down, and soon.

As far as Dumbledore himself was concerned, Harry was sure that he had purposely locked up Sirius in Azkaban to put him out of the way. He suspected that he had revealed the secret-keeper of the Longbottoms to Snape or even Pettigrew. Harry wouldn't put it past Dumbledore to try and make the prophecy come true and to have two weapons to use and throw as he wanted. Funnily, he realised, Caradoc Dearborn was found dead a month and a half before the horrible attack on his sister. Harry thought it was a suckers' bet that Dearborn was the Longbottoms' secret-keeper. "I think it would be best to send him after that ring, and put up anti-motion wards around that Shack. Let the bastard rot there." Another train of thoughts rammed into him, making him feel positively sick. Was Neville the backup plan, and, were Alice and Frank put away for that very purpose? Or was it so that they would be unable to claim custody of Harry? Was it his fault that the Longbottoms were in the condition they were in? Then there was the fact that his _job_ as the Chief Warlock to give Padfoot a trial. Why did Snape, then, get off without a trial and Sirius remain incarcerated for twelve years? The old senile bastard was a liar.

Moony was yet another case. At the moment, he was sucking up to Dumbledore, because the old twerp had given Moony a new lease of life through education. What he never questioned was this: Why was Remus Lupin the only werewolf to graduate from Hogwarts under Dumbledore's stewardship? He had been groomed to be a spy for the Order! This made Harry's decision to somehow bar Dumbledore and Snape from the James and Lily Potter Memorial Institute for Research in LycanthropyJames and Lily Potter Memorial Institute for Research in Lycanthropy all the more astute. He was going to ask the board of both the James and Lily Potter Memorial Institute for Research in LycanthropyJames and Lily Potter Memorial Institute for Research in Lycanthropy as well as CDPS to take anti-Dumbledore oaths. Really, he thought, Cassiopeia was right. Voldemort really was just a minor inconvenience. The real Dark Lord was Dumbledore. As far as Harry was concerned, he could really trust only two people right now. One was Sirius, who could always be trusted to stand against anyone for Harry; the other, amusingly was Voldemort. He was an outright enemy, and neither expected anything else from the other.

* * *

With Architect Wilshere personally supervising the construction work after the Wednesday of the week after the Friday when the deals were sealed, Harry shifted his attention to the House Headships. He knew that over the two timelines, he had completed enough quests for the Gryffindor line's magic to recognise him as the worthy successor. He had sent a message to Gringotts to that effect requesting an appointment. By now, Hedwig had become fairly famous at Gringotts, and as such, the letter went straight to Goldhaul, who responded with a Portkey for the afternoon of the Thursday after construction started. That left him with many more important things to do.

First off, he sent two letters, one each to Luna and Neville. He had a feeling that they could be trusted, but with the knowledge of the future and all that he had thought up during his meditation times as he sorted out every contact with the people around him in each timeline, and his general impetuousness causing him to blurt things out every now and then, he was going to outstrip Alastor Moody as far as "CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" went. Still, he had something to write to the two about, if for nothing else, then to open proper contact.

He grabbed a simple ball-point pen and a sheet of lined foolscap paper and tore it to get two different pages. If he was befriending them, he thought, it would do well to introduce them to easier ways of the non-magical world, starting with stationary. He folded each page in half, and wrote out the instructions for using the pen, replacing the refills, and what to ask for when trying to buy the paper at the local non-magical stationer on the lower half.

 _Luna,_

 _How have the holidays been till now? I am sorry I didn't write to you before, but I was a bit busy. I bought a new place for myself, and it is going to have a small pond. Do you think the gulping plimpies will live in it? I know that you can see the creatures, but I can't, so I was thinking that you could come over when the house is ready for the housewarming party. You can see them, which is proof enough that they exist. Granny Min (that's Professor McGonagall) will be coming around to live with me when her administrative work for the next year is done. I'll have a party then. Maybe you could check for the plimpies then? I'll tell you how to get here when the construction is done. Right now it is just plain land._

 _I know I am rambling, but I don't know much about you (trying to be honest here). So if you don't mind, ignore my ramblings and write to me, so that I can get to know my little sister better. Sorry for the short letter, but I promise I will write regularly._

 _Harry._

 _P.S. - I have enclosed a ball-point pen, some refills and a sheet of foolscap paper. Muggles use this as stationary. I live in a non-magical area, and I thought that you might not know much about life without magic, so this is my attempt at introducing you slowly to 'muggle' contraptions. Cheers!_

The next letter was for Neville. This one was likely to be lengthier because he was now going to elucidate to the boy exactly what he thought the problem was, but without putting Dumbledore's manipulations into the light yet. It was a tightrope walk, but Harry was reasonably sure that it would help greatly. If, as he believed, Neville was being manipulated, either as the back-up, or on Harry's account, it would not do to corner Dumbledore with just speculations without proof. He briefly remembered something that Goldhaul had said- both the Weasley and Dumbledore families were vassals of House Potter. He was going to look into that for creative punishments, when he would have proof.

 _Neville,_

 _How are you doing, mate? A week of the holidays is gone already. Have you started with your essays yet? I have gotten down a rough draft of them all, but I am going to peruse some books in Diagon Alley before I put down the final draft. Anyway, that's a pointless discussion._

 _The thing I really wanted to ask you is this: did you show your Patronus to your Gran? I am sure that you have those wards which prevent underage magic detection, most old family homes do (sorry if that sounds judgemental; I promise that I was simply stating the facts), so you must have been able to perform the charm. I am sure she must be right chuffed about that._

 _Did you ask her about the appointment I told you about during the last week of term? If it is agreeable to the both of you, write back to me. We will decide a day (preferably before the end of this month; it will help you regain control better) and I will arrange things._

 _I've got some news on my side. I've bought a new house for myself and for friends so that you all can come to visit. Granny Min will come to live with me when her administrative summer work is done. Would you be so kind as to suggest a few magical plants for the garden? You'll know the scope better when you come over for the housewarming party after the construction is done. I'll invite you properly again at that time._

 _Harry_

 _P.S. - I have enclosed a ball-point pen, some refills and a sheet of foolscap paper. Muggles use this as stationary. I live in a non-magical area, and I thought that you might not know much about life without magic, so this is my attempt at introducing you slowly to 'muggle' contraptions. Also, trust me, unless you have seer blood in you or have always had visions, DO NOT TAKE Divination. The woman is a fraud, and wrongly predicts a student's death. Cheers!_

He attached the parcels to Hedwig when she returned that evening, and caressed the beautiful white feathers of his familiar. "Here you go, girl. Neville's address is Longbottom Manor, near Norfolk Coast. Luna can be found at the Rookery in Ottery St. Catchpole. I've asked them both to add you to the wards. That's what your feathers given to them were for," he said in a low, long hoot. "Safe flight," he wished her.

He then went back to watching the construction crews work their magic. The crews worked round the clock in three shifts, and had already completed the demolition and levelling of the three plots. They were all chiefly dwarves, or very large goblins. They went through the work like the Hogwarts express through a barrier of air. In two days, the foundation work would be completed. They used special materials and devices to ensure the strength of the structure, and their speed did not deter them from maintaining quality. Mr. Wilshere had very proudly reported that the crews always completed their jobs three hours before the promised possession times. Given the rate at which they were going, Harry was sure, that they would be done the Tuesday after next instead of the Wednesday that they had promised. Harry organised twenty-five thousand galleons to be distributed among them. _That_ would most assuredly make them happy. It was a postulate while dealing with the two races.

* * *

That evening, to the South-West in Devon, a blonde haired girl saw a white bird soaring through the night sky towards her window. She knew this bird well; it was the beautiful snowy owl Hedwig, who had come bearing Harry's letter, just as he had promised. Luna was unsure as to who was her better friend, the owl or the owl's human. In either case, both were just as welcome. As Hedwig was about to land, Luna rushed to the kitchen and returned with a few strips of bacon to feed the owl. She then unfastened the package bearing her name, and read the letter within.

The letter by itself wasn't much. It told her nothing about Harry, except for the fact that he had bought a new home. What was more important was the declaration regarding the various creatures that she could see. He had admitted that he couldn't see them, but had also stated that her word about their existence was proof enough for him. He had, as he had written, rambled a bit, but his apology for not knowing her better was sincere. The thing that made her happy about that the most was the fact that he had kept his promise of writing to her. That meant a lot for the lonely girl.

Looking at the owl which was carefully picking through her feathers, Luna smiled and held out her hand. Hedwig immediately hopped on to the proffered limb and nibbled at Luna's hair and ear. Dreamily, Luna said, "Yes, I am happy to see you too, Hedwig. Harry hasn't written much, has he?" The owl gave a low bark.

"Yes. You are right. Did you see that part where he said he was rambling? He does ramble when he is unsure, doesn't he? He rambles a little."

The owl gave a muffled snuffle and a bark that could've only been laughter, before cocking her head as if to ask, "a little?"

"You are a very cheeky bird, Hedwig, did you know that? Now it's very late. Why don't you stay overnight and give Neville Longbottom his package tomorrow? I'll give you my letter to Harry before you leave."

Hedwig again snuggled into the side of Luna's head and then flew out to a tree in the garden, leaving behind a smiling girl.

* * *

Late morning the following day saw Neville, hands splotched with some sort of runny sap and feet drenched in mud being startled by a loud "PREK!" and fluttering of wings, as Hedwig settled onto a shelf in Neville's greenhouse. Neville glared at the bird indignantly, who returned the glare with interest; her glare was much more intimidating with her amber eyes. They remained like that for a few moments, before Neville could no longer control himself and burst out laughing, Hedwig following suit with a curious series of barks that could only be construed as an owl's laughter. When they were both done, the owl gingerly held out her leg to the boy, who immediately untied the lightened parcel attached to the owl's leg. "Harry sent a letter, then?" he asked rhetorically, as he tore open the package to see a strange set of writing materials enclosed.

He read through the letter, and smiled at the memory of his Patronus. He slapped his forehead in exasperation. Harry had given him the obvious solution to prove himself to his grandmother, and he had plain forgotten about the wards that protected their home. Well, that was something else he would have to thank his godbrother for. Then there was the appointment. Neville knew he was forgetful, but this transcended even the highest known limits of his forgetfulness. Then again, it wasn't as surprising. Harry had told him what exactly had happened (though not the specifics of the horcrux), and Neville was frankly and entirely horror-struck just listening to that ordeal, never mind watching it. All the same, it had hurt that he hadn't even tried to be his friend for two years.

That was without considering the letters Neville and many others had sent him each Halloween. There was something else that had rankled with Neville. Harry had told his dorm-mates very little when they had seen the scars on his back in the first year. Harry had quickly hidden his scars and rushed away, a very odd reaction on the whole, as far as Neville was concerned. Then there was the little tit-bit of information that Harry had let slip. His relatives had made him feel _afraid_ of people. That coupled with the scars told the insightful boy more than his friend would ever tell. Now that Harry had sent him a letter, Neville understood that Harry was at least trying to rectify the situation, however inadvertent.

Then there was the part about the house. So Harry had used the basilisk money. Neville knew better than to thank Harry for the galleons in the trust account set up anonymously for his parents' treatment, something that Gringotts had sent a letter about _after_ the basilisk's rendering. He knew that Harry would work his way towards correcting any slights on his part, whether or not they were intentional, and the money was something he wouldn't have been comfortable talking about. "I am deviating from the subject," Neville mumbled to himself. Buying a house was an excellent idea. And Neville absolutely loved the idea of helping to create a spanking new garden for a new house. Then there was the idea of visiting a friend for a few days, again something that Neville had no experience with. "Well, Harry has extended his hand, and now I must reach out to shake it," decided Neville. "Anyway, between Professor McGonagall and Gran, I would prefer _living_ with Gran any day. That was one hell of a bollocking she gave Gran," he chuckled. He cleaned himself a little, trudged in to the manor (after sending Hedwig to rest on the perching tree) where he cleaned himself thoroughly, before fetching his new wand. He caressed it a bit with a smile. He _felt_ powerful when he used it. "Polly!" he called out. An elf with a black toga bearing the Longbottom coat of arms instantly appeared by Neville's side.

"How can Polly serve young Master?"

"Polly, could you please ask my grandmother to be in the sitting room? Tell her that I had to show her something, and there are matters of great importance to discuss. Thank you," he ordered, politely. Polly beamed and popped off.

A while later Neville came to the sitting room, where his grandmother was perusing a book. He coughed slightly to alert her to his presence, before calling out to her formally, "Grandmother. I hope I haven't disturbed any pressing matters that sought your attention?"

Augusta looked at her grandson intently before answering as she kept the book aside, "No, nothing of that sort has occurred. I hear that you have something to show me, and that you mean to discuss some matters. Please don't tarry," she said authoritatively. A few weeks ago, Neville would have quailed under her glare and voice, but this was a new incarnation that had seen firsthand what he could achieve with the right encouragement. He simply nodded, smiled a bit and then conjured the Patronus with a flourish. The great silver bear ambled around the room searching for enemies before it realised there weren't any, and returned to Neville, grazing its muzzle against his head before dissipating.

Augusta Longbottom, who had been glaring at her supposedly weak grandson, was sitting with her mouth agape as he performed a spell that was at least NEWT level. That he had a corporeal, highly well-defined Patronus only added to her astonishment. She forgot all her comportment and imitated a goldfish for a few seconds before she found the use of her voice again. "You can perform the Patronus charm?" she asked weakly. "You have a corporeal Patronus?"

Neville smirked as she unconsciously mimicked Minerva McGonagall. After allowing her another few seconds to continue expressing her surprise, Neville answered her calmly. "Yes. Harry taught me the charm the day we bought our new wands. He has five corporeal Patroni," he replied very nonchalantly.

"Five?" mouthed the aging matriarch, losing her voice once more.

"Yes. But that is not the subject of our discussion," Neville continued firmly. "Now Gran, I have to say this to you, irrespective of whether or not you get angry with me. After all, I have spent most of my childhood being taunted by all my family, including you, for being "almost a squib" as Great Uncle put it." He ignored her chagrined expression as he continued, "Did you know that this year, a Dark artefact had possessed a student and unleashed a Basilisk at Hogwarts, targeting muggle-born and squibs?"

"WHAT!" Augusta roared, looking positively wild in that moment. "What the hell do you mean there was a basilisk?"

Neville quickly recounted the story of the whole year to a rapidly paling Lady Regent Longbottom, starting with the attacks, Harry's Parseltongue abilities, his vilification by the general student community at Hogwarts, with the Professors making no attempt to defend him and on occasion, implicating him - as in the case of Snape. He then told her about his trip to the Chamber of Secrets during the rendering, as also Harry's trips to Gringotts along with his new status within the Nation as one of the People. That, along with Harry and Hermione approaching him and telling him about the solution for his spell-casting problems, and convincing McGonagall to convince his Grandmother to let him buy a new wand, and then with the Patronus, meant that Harry's stock with the Longbottom clan grew exponentially with each passing word.

Augusta Longbottom's eyebrows were in severe danger of disappearing into her gray hair as she heard about the exploits of the Potter heir. These actions, the fortitude required to perform them in a hostile situation as the sheep-students, the clever handling of the situation with the Nation to such an extent that they extended the rarest of the honours accorded by the People spoke of an exceptional personality and strength of character in one so young. This was a person who could be moulded into a proper, strong leader for the magical community. There was however something that still troubled her.

"All that is well and good, Neville, but something bothers me a lot. I had asked you to observe him since you entered Hogwarts. Why is it that Harry only came around and actually talked to you at the end of two years? You told me something about his suppressed memories. What did that mean?"

This brought Neville up short. Harry had explained to him what the diary was, and how a similar dark thing in his scar had caused him no end of problems. He was however unsure as to how and whether he could explain it to his grandmother without Harry's permission; he said so to her. "That actually brings me to my second matter of discussion. You see, he had several blocks on him which were destroyed when he bulldozed his way through the ... er, Dark power... in his scar. He believes that he has only done just about enough, but not a completely correct procedure, meaning that there could still be several blocks on him. His suspicion is that there are some blocks on me too. That's why he insists on us both being treated by Gringotts' healers. They are mostly muggle-born, and are proficient in human magical and non-magical as well as goblin magical healing. Goblins do not heal humans, apparently. While I know what the dark thingy was somewhat, I still think that it is best for him to explain it to you."

Augusta only nodded in agreement.

"However, Gran, we have deviated a lot from our first discussion. I happen to remember that I was berating you." Augusta had the tact to look properly ashamed. "So, coming back to that subject; did you know that I spent the year, fearing that I would be attacked? We didn't know that it was a Basilisk or it was Tom Riddle..."

"Wait just a moment. Repeat the name please," his Grandmother interrupted tersely.

"Tom Marvolo Riddle was the cause behind the attacks. The Dark Object was his..." he stopped as Madam Longbottom gasped again.

"I can't believe it! Tom! He was the Head Boy when I was at school. We were in the same year. We were in the same house for heaven's sake! He had got the Special Services to the school award for stopping the attacks in our fifth year! He was the one attacking students left, right and centre?"

 _This_ was news to Neville. "You were in Slytherin with Tom Riddle?" he asked incredulously. "Do you know who he is known as now?"

"Do you have a problem with me being an ex-Slytherin? Even Dorea Black was a Slytherin, two years my senior. She was the Head Girl and she went on to marry the Head Boy for the next year."

"Who was that?"

"Charlus Potter," Augusta replied with a smirk. "He was a Slytherin in a Lion's clothing if there ever was one, particularly his political savvy."

"Well alright; I don't have a problem with you being in Slytherin, but you didn't answer my other question. Do you know who Tom Riddle is now known as?"

Augusta glared at Neville's persistence, but she couldn't bring herself to be angry anymore. This was the way that the Potter Heir was bringing her grandson out of his shell. "No. I don't."

"Well then Gran, brace yourself." He snatched a quill, some ink and a piece of parchment and showed her the " **TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE = I AM LORD VOLDEMORT"** anagram. Madam Longbottom immediately went pale. Tom Riddle, a person she had once considered a friend, and if she cared to admit, someone that she was briefly sweet on, was the monster that had destroyed her family, that had destroyed her world. "Dumbledore knew all along by the way, and did nothing about it. That's one of the reasons why Harry and the old man aren't looking eye to eye for quite some time now, never mind the fact that he did nothing to protect Harry." Deciding that it was adequate introduction to the changed situation, Neville gave the letter to his grandmother to read.

She read through, and smiled faintly at the matter; it spoke a lot and it spoke of nothing. It reminded her faintly of Charlus. "Write to him, and tell him that I am agreeable to idea. Firstly however, invite him to our home, at his earliest convenience. If he can turn up right now, even without a moment's notice, it will be fine by me. He is Alice's godson after all." She smiled at him and gracefully made her way out.


	16. Chapter 16

**Dramatic Dinner**

 **Crack warning: Animagus Crack to mellow incident.**

* * *

That Friday, Harry decided to indulge himself with a missing piece of his childhood: he went and bought himself a bike. He had wanted one from the time that Dudley had been bought one, but his relatives never really been the sort to 'let the freak embrace any smidgen of normalcy'. So Harry decided to indulge himself in this matter. It was rather ironic, that he had helped the old man in their neighbourhood teach Dudley how to ride a bike. Dudley, forever averse to any physical exertion, had given up quickly. The old man however had taught Harry how to ride. He was putting that to very good use.

It wasn't as natural to him as riding a broom was, but all the same, the feel of the air whipping into his face as he accelerated, the pleasant exertion as he peddled further was no less exhilarating. He was thinking about Hermione's aversion to flying, as he rode. Brooms did not have the same sort of seating arrangement as on a bike. Harry decided to test out his theory whenever he would next see her. She had gone to France for her holidays; when she would return, he was going to buy her a broomstick and strap on a bike seat with some modifications so that she would have a little familiarity with it. A little padding to ensure that the broom finish and runes weren't scraped, and a nut-bolt arrangement to fix the seat to the broom would be all that they would need.

The house was shaping up as he wanted it to. The excavation using magic ensured that the foundation was laid very fast. They still left it that way for a day though, with some sort of paste smeared uniformly across the whole surface. It left a terrible acrid smell which Harry associated with a hospital and the insides of an incinerator, but apparently, it sped up the work. They would first be working on the central minaret and then follow it up with the three house-structures. He saw Hedwig returning as he turned around the corner. Of course she had Neville's and Luna's replies. He returned to his shed post haste, just as she swooped down.

"Hey girl, had a good flight?" he asked, tickling her under the beak and then laying out owl treats, a dish of water and three small mice that he had managed to stun. Hedwig looked at them appraisingly, and then clicked her beak appreciatively at her human. He had after all found delicacies to please Her Majesty, Queen Hedwig's palate. As if bestowing an immense honour, she gingerly held out her leg for Harry to retrieve his letters. Harry bowed theatrically and smarmed with a lisp, "Thank you, miththreth!" Hedwig only barked in return. He read the one from Luna first.

 _Harry Potter,_

 _I am Luna Lovegood. I am twelve. I'm in Ravenclaw House at Hogwarts. I like Transfiguration, Potions and Charms. I am a witch. I suppose you knew that though._

 _Thank you for believing me about the animals. But you wanted to tell me about the theory you had about them, which while explaining why I can see them and why nobody else can, also proved that I am not 'Loony'. Why did you not tell me? Were you afraid that I would be offended? Don't be._

 _As for the gulping plimpies, I am not sure that they live in stagnant water. Stagnant water remains unclean, and it causes them harm. Do you think you can move the water in your pond? If yes, I will give you a couple of gulping plimpies to put in your pond._

 _Are muggles very cruel? I always thought that Fudge, who cooked goblins into pies (you should beware of him; I don't want him to eat you) was the most cruel person. Why do muggles skin Moonbell cubs and draw lines on them? Isn't parchment less cruel? I don't think I like paper very much. It is inhumane. I liked the two blue cylindrical quills though. They are made of Umbugular Sashkilter droppings aren't they?_

 _Thank you for writing to me, though you will not like me thanking you. Tell me more about those things when you write back. The righteous fires of judgement and justice will change you by the power of your emotion. You will become a Great Elder and a Great One soon. Be good to the Nation after that. That will be good to you._

 _Luna_

Harry was torn between exasperated disgust at the idea of thinking of plastic as the droppings of some creature and absolute bewilderment at her idea of paper being the skin of some creature that he hadn't most assuredly heard of, stripped off and harvested cruelly. But then, that was Luna. What he was a bit worried about was her telling him about the Great Elder and a Great One. What was the Great Elder? What was the Great One? What exactly was it about the righteous fires of judgement and justice? Shrugging, he opened Neville's letter.

 _Harry,_

 _Thanks for the heads up about Divination. Given my luck, I'll most likely be the so-called victim. I wrote to McGonagall immediately to drop it in favour of Runes and Arithmancy._

 _Gran was astounded to see my Patronus. We had a rather frank discussion as you had suggested. It threw up more information than either of us were anticipating. Did you know that my Gran was Tom Riddle's classmate? She was rightly aghast at his actions. I also told her about your adventures. She asked me about the suppressed memory thing, but I wasn't sure that I was the best person to disclose it. So she wants to talk to you at the earliest; she agrees for the Gringotts appointment, but still wants to talk to you before that. She said, and I quote, "If he can turn up right now, even without a moment's notice, it will be fine by me." You are welcome to dinner too, if you like, this evening. I have told Gran to not expect any pureblood mannerisms (no offence meant)._

 _Congrats for the house, mate. I'll surely give you pointers for the garden. A magical-non-magical mix seems to be a good idea. I'll of course be better able to tell you when I see the place. Thanks again for the help, mate. I already feel powerful enough. If things are as you suspect, I will be simultaneously very happy and very angry (though not at you), so I am not sure how I'll react. But we both agree that it is necessary._

 _I haven't yet started the essays. Channelling Hermione now are you?_ **[Neville teased?]** _I look forward to your visit. Call the Floo from the Leaky Cauldron. Call name: "Longbottom Manor" Password: "Wonderland"._

 _Neville_

"That was illuminating," mumbled Harry, as he thought about the implications of the password, considering Neville's mother's name was Alice. Dobby had been living for the past three days at Hogwarts, so he would be easily able to supervise in Harry's stead. Dobby had taken to his liberty with quite some fervour. While he loved helping out, and Harry didn't allow him to do much, he was an excellent friend when he wanted someone to put his thoughts and suspicions past. He had lately been putting his own to Knuts' worth, though very shyly. He also liked to cook food, but had twice commended Harry for his skills. He was also particularly happy to have his own room in the house. They had also struck a deal to teach each other their magics, whenever Harry could somehow procure Dobby a wand.

* * *

Dobby popped him off to the Leaky Cauldron, wherefrom Harry with the bag containing the presents for the two Longbottoms, Flooed to his hosts'. Just like Harry's other skills, his graceless exits from Floo networks and Portkeys had followed him into this timeline too. Sprawled on the floor in front of the fireplace at the Longbottoms', Harry scowled at a snickering Neville, before turning to a disapproving Madam Longbottom with a sheepish gaze.

As they all got their bearings, Neville summoned up his best aristocratic behaviour and bowing formally to Harry, said, "Heir Potter, I, Neville, Scion of House Longbottom welcome you to Longbottom Manor, and offer you protection within its walls. Allow me to introduce my grandmother, Lady Regent Augusta Longbottom."

Knowing that he was fully deficient in the matters of social behaviour associated with his standing in magical society, Harry decided to play along, and at least try to fit in. "Thank you, Scion Longbottom. Madam Longbottom, it is a great honour to make your acquaintance. I beg your pardon for my deficient manners, as I haven't had an upbringing suitable to the stature of my House. I bring along gifts to introduce you to the wider non-magical world."

He reached into his bag and retrieved a shrunken hat-box and what looked like a miniature model of a bike. He resized the things to their proper size. Handing the box to Madam Longbottom, he presented the top-of-the-line ladies' hat in fashion. It was a very subtle dig at her vulture topped hat, if he did decide to put it that way. Madam Longbottom however was pleased with the gift, which bore a very close resemblance to the hats that the Queen Mother wore in public. Neville, meanwhile, was gazing at the bike very apprehensively, being quite at a loss as to what to make of it. Both Harry and Madam Longbottom could see that he was itching to ask about the thing, but was being held back by the formalities.

"I am pleased with your thoughtfulness, Heir Potter, thank you very much. Now, I believe we can drop the stuffy formalities, Mr. Potter?"

"Please call me Harry, Madam Longbottom."

"Then you will call me Augusta," she smiled slightly as Harry baulked at the idea, "or Gran as you would have called me under different. As for the comportment, I am sure that I could teach you. You used a little sense, even though you had no idea what to do. Just remember that one should never give excuses in any condition and to never put yourself down. That will take you far."

"That's a relief. Thank you ... Gran," he said, smiling a little shyly. "Neville, I can see that you are trying to contain your questions. I'll answer the ones that I can anticipate. That is a bike- a bicycle. It is to be ridden. I'll show you how to do that sometime later. I'll teach you to ride. You see that knob there? That's the gear shifter. Gears," he said, pointing to the ones on the back wheel, "are jagged toothed wheels that control how much speed or torque is transmitted to the wheel from your peddling. I wanted to get you a simple, gearless bike first, so that you could learn how to ride before learning to control the gears, but couldn't." He grinned sheepishly at his friend.

"Is this like a muggle broom, then?" asked Neville, still not entirely convinced about the contraption.

"Sort of, yes," replied Harry amiably.

"Thanks for the bike Harry," Neville said with some enthusiasm.

"Well I always thought that it was a shame that you never rode a broom. I look at you and instantly think: _beater._ A little exercise, a bit of bulking up and channelling all that pent-up anger," Harry said with a smile, pausing at Neville's astonished wide-eyed look, "onto a damned bludger, and Neville Longbottom will be a proper hunk with the ladies eyeing you up," he said with a snicker. Neville blushed momentarily, and then swatted Harry on the back of his head.

"You are one to talk. You've Hermione as one of your Patroni."

"Well, what do I know? She is always right."

Madam Longbottom smiled at the exchange between the two. It was a real pleasure to see her subdued grandson coming out of his shell. Dinner was a subdued affair with a fair share of gentle ribbing over rib of pork. They had purposely kept the very important matters for after dinner. Once they were done, they retreated to the sitting room, where Harry was to undergo his interrogation.

"So," started 'Gran' (as he was supposed to call her), "Harry, Neville says you have had quite the year at Hogwarts."

"I do try to keep a low profile ma'am," Harry deadpanned. This elicited chuckles from his hosts. Gradually, though, the real story of how the year had panned out; how he was shunned by the students for being a Parselmouth, barring a few like Hermione, Neville, the four Weasley brothers till Hermione was attacked (both Neville and Augusta noted the pained and haunted expression in his eyes as he spoke of that); the failure of the teachers in stopping that; the trail of clues that led to the discovery of the chamber and the monster within, culminating with the betrayal by Lockhart, the fight with the basilisk and Riddle and the rescue of Ginny, all tumbled out.

For Madam Longbottom, it had been a revelation to hear it from Neville's point of view, but when she heard it from Harry's point of view, it was even worse. Several questions came to mind. Why was someone as blatantly fake, fraudulent and incompetent as Lockhart hired to teach so important a subject as DADA? Why were the belongings of all students and teachers not checked thoroughly to bring out the perpetrator? Why was a triumvirate of second years left to deal with a Class-X5 creature, including discovering its presence in the first place? Why was the final resolution brushed under the carpet? Why was Harry not given a public apology by the student body? This was something that she fully intended to take up with the board of Governors. When she voiced all these questions, Harry smirked; a smirk that the woman had now seen from three generations of Potter males.

"You wanted me to ask these very questions didn't you?" she asked him, only making him grin the patented Potter grin.

"In a way, yes; I was leading you to those questions, Gran. But it wasn't just to bring you on my side about this. It has particular bearing over what happened thereafter."

"I am all ears."

"I believe you know by now who Tom Riddle was. What you don't know about is the diary. Do you know what a Horcrux is?" Harry hadn't expected her to know, and she didn't disappoint.

"No. I can't say I do."

"I would have been surprised if you knew. By performing a ritual and a premeditated murder without a smidgen of remorse, it is possible to split the soul. A Horcrux is an object in which such a split soul piece has been placed. As long as such object or objects remain undamaged, the soul of the person is anchored to the physical plane and doesn't pass on. In effect, it is the darkest art of Necromancy. It is the reason why Riddle who intended to make six of them and most certainly made more accidentally. I destroyed the diary and the accidental one."

Gran Longbottom had gone very green at the very idea of such a monstrosity. "How did the wards at Hogwarts never recognise such a thing inside the castle?"

"I believe this is because the wards were probably altered to let the accidental Horcrux inside the castle. Since this Horcrux, while a parasite, still bore an individually unique and different magical signature, which couldn't have entered with the dark detection wards on. These wards were altered two years ago."

"Just the time when you all went to..." Gran Augusta's eyes widened. "What was this accidental Horcrux?"

Harry could see that she had connected the dots, though not very accurately. Harry answered by just lifting the fringe that covered his now mostly healed scar. "This dratted thing that has defined me till now."

Augusta could not bear it anymore. "You must excuse me," was all she said, as she escaped to presumably to vomit the delicious dinner they had just had.

"Was it very dramatic?" Harry asked Neville innocently.

"Damn it Harry. I thought it was just some sort of dark spell which gave Riddle's magical signature. It was a piece of his soul!" he exclaimed in horror. "I really don't want to believe that, you know. Splitting his soul," Neville shuddered involuntarily.

"Do you think poorly of me now that you know what it was?" asked Harry, mostly in fear and quite a lot of dismay.

Neville looked at him incredulously. "Are you insane? You lived for more than a decade with that thing, yet didn't let it overpower you. You remained Harry. How could anyone think any less of you for that?"

"Neville is absolutely right," said Gran as she entered the room again, startling the two boys. "How would you even think that anybody would think any less of you? I respected your exploits before; now I respect you!" she said forcefully. "How did you destroy the two _things_?"

"The first was easy, somewhat. When I was fighting the basilisk, Fawkes the phoenix brought around the Sorting Hat. It was a relic keeper for Godric Gryffindor's sword. It chose me as the wielder by the Goblin magic imbued in it. When I stabbed the basilisk, like all good Goblin made weapons, it imbibed the basilisk venom. A fang got stuck in my arm, and I was quite sure that I was going to snuff it. It was around the same time that Riddle told me what he was, and my scar answered. Fawkes healed the bite, and dropped the diary into my hands. I stabbed it with the fang. In Granny Min's office, we were talking to the Weasleys. I implicitly proved that Lucius Malfoy passed the Horcrux- which had a compulsion charm, a triggered Imperius curse and a soul-leaching curse on it- to Ginny Weasley, so he cast the Killing Curse at me. That's how we got him arrested. While the mandatory one and half month period till his trial is still going on, I am quite sure that Fudge will somehow meddle and get him freed. Well, anyhow, the next day I got Dumbledore, Granny Min, the Weasleys, Hagrid and Hermione to come up to Dumbledore's office. I hadn't spoken to Neville yet so I didn't ask him to come along, and truly I had two very big fears. One was that everyone would be disgusted by the fact that Voldemort was a parasitic attachment to the person he had befriended, and secondly, he would have the memories modified by Dumbledore..."

"Surely Albus wouldn't..."

"He would. He has no morals, and is in my totally true and unbiased opinion, a liar, a cruel bastard and a Dark Lord to boot."

"WHAT?"

"I'll explain my reasons for my distrust of Dumbledore. But let's move on to the accidental Horcrux. A chosen wielder can ask the weapon to be of the form most appropriate for a given situation. I stabbed the scar with a knife sized Sword of Gryffindor. It also broke through some part of the binding on my core Dumbledore had put to supposedly not allow Voldemort to possess me." This elicited appropriate gasps from his hosts.

"He knew?" asked Gran, thunderstruck.

"Yes. He did. As far as all those present could understand, he fully intended that I be raised like a pig for slaughter. He did not deny that I would have to die in the end, _so that_ Voldemort could be killed."

"That bastard," seethed Neville venomously.

"Indeed," replied Harry, calmly. If his ploy worked, Harry was taking away a very important Dumbledore supporter. "However, there is much more to point out. Do either of you know why my parents and Uncle Frank and Aunt Alice had to go into hiding?"

"No, I don't."

"There was a prophecy." He recited it verbatim to them. "You see, a Death Eater had heard the parts foretelling that the Dark Lord's enemy would be born at the end of July, prompting Voldemort to go after Neville and me. Remember, Dumbledore doesn't know that I know all this. If I can read him right, Dumbledore is waiting for Voldemort's return to tell me about it. He just doesn't know that his thumb no longer sinks me six feet under."

Neville's and Augusta's face darkened in anger. "I presume Dumbledore knew the Death Eater?" she asked.

"Oh, yes he does. This Death Eater relayed the prophecy to his master, who immediately started plans for us both. Realising this, the Death Nibbler went off to Dumbledore and begged to the old man to save Lily Evans- note this, Lily Evans not Potter, and no mention of her family, or of the Longbottom family. The venerable Headmaster promised the Death Eater that he would do so."

"But he didn't," prompted Gran.

"He didn't," agreed Harry. "But after the 'marking as an equal' stuff made me the one in the prophecy, what do you think happened thereafter? There were rumours that the one marked equal was a powerful Dark Lord himself! Dumbledore, the great, self-attested, self-proclaimed leader of the Light, decided that in that case, he would have both the boys under his thumb. Incidentally, the marked one's godmother, a woman who would have immediate custody over the boy, was the mother of the other boy who _could_ have fulfilled the conditions."

"Mum," breathed Neville.

"Yes. And there is more to that," continued Harry.

"I am all ears."

"As both Neville and I are the...children of prophecy, it has another implication. "The Dark Lord will mark him as his equal" that prophecy said. I am only _**marked as an equal...**_ " he said, trailing off ominously. Augusta and Neville did not understand, however.

"What do you mean?"

"Neville hasn't been marked by Riddle himself," Harry started, before ending dramatically, " _ **yet**_."

"What?"

"The Prophecy...it said he would mark one of us as an equal. Dumbledore presumes that the scar did that. It may have been so. It may not have been so. Prophecies are not cut and dried. But that is not the only inference. Marking as an equal did not mean that the other child would not be an equal. Quite the opposite. What that essentially means is that Neville, Tom Riddle and I are exact equals as far as magical power goes. As of now, it is only speculation that Tom chose to mark me. Otherwise the three of us are magical equals."

"Are you insane or are you toying with me?" Neville asked with ill-disguised malice.

"Neither, Nev. It is a fact of the Prophecy, something that I have nothing to do with. That is why I specifically asked you to talk to Gran. We do not know what form of him will come up, and when. I would rather have you equipped, if not prepared and ready. What if he decides to mark you? In which way? When? Do you see where I am coming from?"

Gran only glared at him, while Neville had a severely constipated look on his face that suggested that he clearly thought that Harry was taking his mickey.

"Neville, you are one of the youngest people to produce a bloody corporeal Patronus, Neville!" growled Harry (he ignored the admonishment about his language; it was important to break Neville's shell - possibly with the force of the Krakatoa) Get of your backside, man! Get up and smell the roses! I told you, Neville, we are technically supposed to be as close as first cousins, if not brothers. That means that I must and will stand with you when and not if the time comes. Is it not better to be prepared?"

Neville still looked mullish. "Can we change the subject please?" he ground out. As much as he wanted to believe what Harry said to be true, he had been made the subject of ridicule based on his magical ability one time too many, with Harry's best friend Ron one of the chief perpetrators. To then be told that he was powerful, as ordained by fate, was something he was unable to digest.

"Very well," conceded Harry with a sigh. He should not have expected everything to fall into place within the first few weeks anyway. He met Gran's gaze squarely and asked, "Who was the Secret-Keeper for Neville and his parents, Gran?"

"Neville's Uncle, Caradoc Dearborn. He was found dead sometime in late September, 1981."

"Did he give you the Secret verbally, or as a note?"

Unsure as to where these questions were leading to, she answered, a bit shakily, "He wrote a note."

"Now, when I learnt about these things, I studied the charm a bit. If the original Secret-Keeper dies, all those to whom the secret has been revealed, become the secret keepers. Is it not astounding that they were attacked only after Mr. Dearborn was murdered?"

This was new information to the Longbottoms. They had all assumed that Caradoc, whose body had been found, tortured, mutilated and defiled, with a bare few strips of flesh on his face and body still attached to the skeleton (which itself was damaged) almost to the point of being beyond recognition, had somehow let slip the secret due to torture. What Harry said meant that he had not betrayed his sister, even out of pain. They closed their eyes in silent prayer to the departed soul. But that threw up a much more important point. One of those that the secret had been revealed to, by consent, was the traitor. Funnily enough, the only people who knew were the Potters, Augusta Longbottom, the Potters' secret-keeper, and Dumbledore. Madam Longbottom verbalised her thoughts.

"Yes," replied Harry. "So, two of the people would never betray their own child. Two of the remaining, are dead." He took a sharp intake of breath. "Also, even if they had remained alive, they couldn't have betrayed Neville, being his godparents."

"That leaves the Potter Secret-Keeper and Dumbledore. I am not sure whether you know this Harry, but the Potter Secret Keeper could have done it himself. He was a friend of your father. Sirius Black, as black as his name, he was. He is in Azkaban. Frankly, he could have done it himself, and not Dumbledore."

Harry deliberated over how much to reveal. If he would bring everything into the open, Augusta Longbottom would use her position on the Wizengamot to reopen the case, making Sirius susceptible to harm from the easily manipulated Minister and his cronies. After all, there were too many people with vested interests in Sirius' fate. The House of Black was too important to pass it up. He decided to concede the point, for now. As it was, Wormtail could have done it of his own accord anyway. This was flimsy conjecture, not enough to base an allegation against Dumbledore on.

"While that may be true, Voldemort could have chosen to attack Neville, instead of me, if Black, **_my godfather_** , had betrayed the secret. Not to offend you, but Neville as a pureblood would fit into his schemes. No. He chose a half-blood like himself. Sirius Black was arrested on the 2nd of November, while the attack on the Longbottom family occurred on the 5th. I find too much discrepancy. It maybe because I have it out against Dumbledore, I will concede that, but three whole days passed between Black's arrest and those crazed, rabid animals attacked Uncle Frank and Aunt Alice."

"You are hell-bent upon implicating Albus, aren't you?" asked Augusta.

"You could say that, in a way. Ever since I remembered that Aunt Alice was my godmother, and learnt what had happened to her, I have somehow felt that it is my entire fault. She was tortured because she was in some way associated with me. That was one of the reasons that I wasn't sure Neville would like to befriend me. I thought he would blame me too. Maybe it is just my weakness that I somehow want to push off that blame on Dumbledore," replied Harry with a wonderful act of dejection.

"That is codswallop!" burst out Gran, very vehemently. "You have obviously blamed yourself for your parents' death for long; now don't add Alice upon your conscience. It is the fault of the Death Eater who heard the prophecy and the ones who betrayed the two families."

Neville interjected here. He already had long had the Lestranges on his sights, and now this new Death Eater would rank right after them. "Harry what happened to the Death Eater who heard that load of tosh? Was he sent to Azkaban?"

Harry snorted mirthlessly. "Oh no, Neville, nothing of that sort happened. Our **_respected_** (everybody heard the sarcastic stress on the word) Headmaster swore that this person was allied to the 'Light'. He swore that that Death Eater was his spy. Let me give you one more hint. This Death Eater teaches us Potions."

"SEVERUS SNAPE!" roared Neville angrily.

"Yes. Good ol' Snivellus was the one who sent Moldyshorts after us. That is why I distrust Dumbledore even more. Was the attack on your parents really not coordinated with Dumbledore's tacit knowledge? As my godmother, I am sure that she would have cared for me, as my mum would have for you. That made it necessary to eliminate her as an option. What if I was really a Dark Lord? In that case, Dumbledore now had an **_option_** ," Harry spat out the word. "He had an option that would need to be controlled. Again, it was the same person that wouldn't allow you to be malleable. This- These persons would have to be taken out of the equation."

Both Longbottoms were breathing hard as their anger was making them lose control. Granted, what Harry was putting forth was, as of that moment, pure conjecture. But it was completely logical conjecture, nevertheless. Neville in particular was badly stricken. The man who had made his life hell at school for two years was responsible for his parents' condition indirectly. Neville feared Severus Snape. Now Neville hated him.

"What I never knew was why Dumbledore supported Snape, in spite of many of us giving evidence of his involvement in the Death Eater raid that killed my husband Gerald and your Grandparents, Charlus and Dorea in a Death Eater raid on their private meeting place. This explains it," Gran said, her voice hard as granite out of pure unadulterated spite.

"Snape killed them?" Harry, now white as a sheet, asked.

"We had proof. It was never accepted."

"That bastard will pay," Harry resolved coldly. Speaking out aloud, he asked Gran, "Are you willing to give a magical oath that what you say is true? Not that I don't believe you, but..." He was cut off by the oath from Gran. That was the tipping point for Harry. His magic got away from him, seeking justice for his family. He yearned to burn down the man and the legend that was Dumbledore.

To the Longbottoms, it was the most frighteningly thrilling experience as they watched their guest being engulfed by his magic. His green irises spread all over his eyes, as he slowly transformed into an eagle, no, a lion...a majestic griffin. The griffin had black head feathers, but was golden everywhere else with red streaks on his wings. He had deep green eyes. Currently, however, he was screeching his anger out, swearing unearthly terror on Albus Dumbledore and Severus Snape.

What neither of them knew though was the pulse of pure, raw magic that emanated from Harry, bearing his unique signature had swept through the English isles, causing those who were familiar with Harry's magic to worry for him. It had also destroyed all the tracking and monitoring devices on the Headmaster's desk. Minerva McGonagall was the first to trace it back to Harry, followed closely by Goldhaul, Rubyclaw (the Longbottom account manager who was required to take his peers through the wards to their customer), Biggem and Amelia Bones. These five individuals were currently just outside the wards of the Longbottom Manor, awaiting permission for entry.

Away in Devon, a dirty-blonde haired girl smiled. "I knew that you would become the Great One soon. I just thought you would be the Great Elder first." Sirius, through the mind link, had realised that there was something that irked his godson tremendously. He had been sensing human thoughts before, now however, his entire presence was on a totally different plane. Dobby, sitting in the shed watching over the crew, which suddenly started working faster than before, had sensed the change in his bond to Harry. Harry had become a creature revered by several races. Polly, who had come to announce the guests to Madam Longbottom, immediately fell to her knees in front of Harry and uttered a high pitched, "Hail the Great One!" before scurrying out to admit the five.

What the five found in the Longbottoms' sitting room, made them stop in their tracks. The griffin that was Harry, was currently observing the humans in his presence, judging them. The three representatives of the People, however, walked up to Harry with their hands in front of them and fingers splayed. With a deep bow, they too sank to their knees. "O Great One, we are honoured by your presence, by your return to our midst."

Harry screamed at them, and looked at them in the eye imperiously. He had the most curious sensation of being presented the Goblins' thoughts. Deciding them to be pure and fierce warriors, he raised his right paw out of sheer instinct, and touched their heads. He screamed again. The Goblins kept bowing and backed away from this most sacred of creatures. Goldhaul then spoke up, "We of the People are honoured and felicitated to present Lord Griffinheart, honorary member of the Nation, sacred to the People. As his friends, personally, Biggem and I congratulate him on his spectacular achievement. Rarely do words fail us of the People, but this is an instance of the kind. We are truly envious of our colleague Rubyclaw that this event occurred in the home of **_his_** clients."

Amelia Bones and Minerva McGonagall both approached the boy who was dear to them in many ways. Chief Bones needed to examine the Griffin form first, as she, in her position as the Head of DMLE had control of the registry of Animagi. She bowed first to the majestic creature, for that was what Harry was at that moment, and hesitantly inched her hand towards his beak. The Griffin cocked his head and intently considered the Lady, before softly touching her hand with his beak. Chief Bones was amazed. She gently stroked the black head-feathers, before stepping back to take in the golden lion's body and the red streaked golden wings.

"Was this spontaneous?" she asked the Longbottoms, who quickly related the entire incident including what set Harry off.

"When he realised that Snape's crimes ran deeper than he knew, he lost control and muttered something about making someone pay. I think this is the way that his magic, which now seeks righteous justice, transformed him," reported Neville."

"Astonishing," murmured Chief Bones, as she ran her hand along the griffin's back, eliciting an indignant screech. "Sorry," she said blushing.

As the only animagus in the group, Minerva McGonagall's expertise was of vital importance in the situation. They desperately needed to speak to Harry, and she was the only one who could help him turn back. What complicated matters was the fact that he was likely to be very scared, as this was a case of accidental magic. Stepping out of her Professor mode, she asked Neville to fetch a large blanket and some clothes, and a camera. At everybody's questioning gaze, she answered, "Animagi generally go through a very long process. It takes tremendous skill to get each part of the transformation right. It takes at least a couple of years to get the whole transformation together. Harry, as usual, decided to prove that he is James' son by making a mockery of any rules and norms. But the problem is that now I'll have to coax him out of the griffin form, and he is very angry, or very scared, or both, right now. The camera is to take pictures of him so that he can understand his form better. When you transform back to your human form, it is very difficult to imagine oneself in the human form with all the details including clothes. This is not a conscious animagus transformation, but rather accidental magic. So we may end up seeing more of Harry than we should," she said with a smile. Harry only squawked and flapped his enormous wings in protest, making Granny Min lose her footing. This lightened the mood quite a bit.

Neville immediately returned with the things, and rather enthusiastically snapped away. When everyone was ready, Granny Min calmly held the Griffin (which was still young and was now sitting on its haunches, and had pecked her twice) by his head, and stroked the black feathers lovingly, just as a grandmother would caress a child. "Harry, I know that you are scared and angry. Don't think about anything else. Right now, you must be feeling as if you have clenched your magic in such a way that you have turned into a griffin. Relax. Unclench the magic, relax your mind and relax your muscles. Look, isn't this Firewing, one of your Patroni? (Chief Bones perked up at this, but Neville shook his head at her and mouthed, "Later".) Now I want my boy back. You can't stay in this form forever, can you? Imagine yourself. Think of yourself as you would see yourself in a mirror. Whatever happens, there is no way that you should feel ashamed. None of us will feel ashamed or afraid of you."

At the kind words, the Griffin looked at the nice woman beseechingly, and then nudged her with his beak. Granny Min simply smiled at him and stroked his head again. She let go of him and just sat back with the others after covering his back with the blanket. Harry started to slowly let go, chiefly concentrating on his lower half first (he wouldn't be caught dead naked in public!). The feline body very slowly morphed into a human one. Paws turned to hands and feet, while the torso changed to the human abdomen. Thankfully, at least the legs retained a pair of trousers torn in a way that would resemble Bruce Banner's when he turned back to human form from the Hulk (he had lately taken to reading comics). The wings retracted into his back and vanished, before he started turning his head back to his own. It was a long process, one that lasted nearly ten minutes.

When he was finally done, he groaned. "I feel like a shirt freshly laundered by the giant squid," he moaned causing everyone to laugh. Granny Min poured him a glass of water and made him sit up before handing it to him. Harry drank it and slowly started to stand unmindful of his bare chest and back, more importantly of the welts and scars on his abdomen. He shook himself slightly like a wet dog, still getting his bearings, but that was enough to afford the room a proper view of the reminders of the Dursleys' tender mercies.

"Lord Griffinheart, what are those marks on your body?" asked Biggem neutrally. He had started becoming rather protective in Harry's case.

"What's with the Lord business, Biggem?" asked Harry nervously.

"DO NOT AVOID ANSWERING THE QUESTION, LORD GRIFFINHEART!" boomed Goldhaul. "LORD OR NOT, YOU ARE STILL A CHILD BY AGE, BOTH AMONG THE HUMANS AND AMONG THE PEOPLE!"

"I did not press you when we met at Hogwarts, Harry. Now I won't let this go. Did those muggles do this to you?" Chief Bones asked in her best interrogator voice.

Harry just bowed his head and mumbled, "Yes Ma'am. These scars are from the lashing I got for showing the audacity to ask if I could not do my chores for the day as my tenth birthday present."

"What chores?"

"Yeah, you know- gardening, cooking, cleaning and the like. They were all my jobs," he said with as much casualness as he could muster.

"I want an entire account of this, Harry."

"Please, Chief Bones, I really would rather not talk about this. I bought their house, sent them away to who knows where..."

"I know," interjected Goldhaul.

"Alright; I bought their house, sent them away to Goldhaul knows where. I don't care. They were a part of my past, when nobody bothered to ask the great Albus Dumbledore where he had placed me, or whether I was even alive. I lived for ten years in that hell-hole, thinking that I was a good for nothing freak. Till Hagrid told me that mum and dad were murdered by Voldemort, all I knew about them was that they died in an inebriated state in a car crash. I don't want to relive all that. It's done."

Everybody shifted guiltily in their seats, except Neville. "You mean you never got the letters many of us sent you every 31st of July and Halloween?"

"What do you mean, Nev? The Hogwarts letter was my first communication from the magical world," he said, genuinely bewildered.

"Owl redirection wards," muttered Chief Bones, venomously. "If you are not going to talk about it all, I want your memories."

"I implore, Madam. Let the past be dead and buried as I intend it to be..."

"No. I had insisted that you shouldn't be placed with them, but Albus wouldn't listen. I want to see what he subjected my grandson to. I intend to invoke the witches' curse of judgement!" The gasps from the others told Harry that this was something much more important and powerful than normal. (Neville would later tell him that it was something that was invoked by mothers and other female family members to avenge a loved one or their suffering). Chief Bones made a quick trip to her office, returning with her own Pensieve. The memories of the years with the Dursleys filled it. Their neglect of a baby; then their inhuman behaviour against a toddler; their insistence on him performing as many chores as they could possibly make him do; the verbal abuse, mental and even physical abuse; their answers regarding his parents; the cupboard under the stairs; the starvation; it all played in a loop. When they finally returned to the sitting room from the Pensieve, Minerva instinctively conjured a few buckets, which several members of the group used to vacate their stomachs into. She then proceeded to vanish the buckets, cast a mouth-freshening spell on herself.

"Goldhaul, Biggem, Lord Griffinheart isn't my client, but may I kill those muggles please?" asked Rubyclaw, his face truly not a sight for the weak-willed, clearly trying to control and channel tremendous hatred and also, oddly, trying puppy-dog eyes (!) on Goldhaul.

"No. I expected this reaction. This is exactly why I wanted all this kept in the past. I know Albus Dumbledore. I know the Dursleys. The former treasures his status, knowledge, position and the powers that come with them, and the control that he has over others due to the respect for his words and manipulations that everybody has. The latter treasure societal status, money and what-not. I will not kill them. There are things worse than death, than physical torture. For Albus Dumbledore, it is insurmountable, public disgrace. His real death will be truth. As for the Dursleys, their worst fear is poverty. I'll start buying stakes in Grunnings. Death is too easy a punishment for anyone. It doesn't amount to complete vengeance," his grim smile had Goldhaul, Rubyclaw and Biggem gnashing their fangs in acceptance. "I believe it would be wise to start upon this quest. If you need to bring them to justice on my behalf, Master Goldhaul, leech out their last resource, render them destitute, show them the Nation's full wrath without resorting to weapons!"

This brought an unholy gleam to their eyes, something that Harry could easily associate with Fred and George, or Moony and Padfoot when they tried to raise the spirits of the residents of Grimmauld Place. With such a ... honourable task to carry out, they took everybody's leave and hastened to comply. They always got paid well by Griffinheart. The human/goblin in question was simultaneously ashamed and very elated. He was ashamed because something that he wanted to be kept secret forever was now known to so many. And he was elated because the blame was now squarely on Dumbledore's shoulders, making the old man lose some important believers, i not supporters.

The humans were however silent- too eerily silent. Neville and Gran were sitting back pale-faced with Amelia Bones. Particularly for Chief Bones, this was more than just a bit galling. She had seen everything that the boy had done at Hogwarts, and now, seeing his (only) ten (of sixteen) years of torment was utterly disgusted, a sentiment shared by the others. They had celebrated the fall of Voldemort, but they had forgotten the baby who had allowed the semblance of peace to reign.

"Are you for real?" croaked Neville.

A ghost of a smile appeared on Harry's face. "I can testify to that," he deadpanned.

The two grandmothers however, did the first thing they needed to do: they each pulled him into a crushing hug with rather teary eyes. They dismissed Harry's miniscule flinch and continued to show their support for him. That was before Mt. Minerva erupted. "YOU ABSOLUTE, CONNIVING, SIMPERING, MANIPULATIVE BASTARD, ALBUS DUMBLEDORE! I CURSE YOU ON MY MAGIC TO DAMNATION IN HELL TO ALL ETERNITY!" she exploded, startling everyone around her and making everyone miss the flash of magic that followed her words. "YOU SHALL LIVE OUT THESE HORRORS THAT YOU HAVE FOISTED ON MY GRANDSON FOR SO MANY YEARS! YOUR MIND SHALL BE YOUR OWN PERSONAL HELL, SO SAY I AND MAY MERLIN AND MORGANA JUDGE MY CURSE!" This time though, nobody missed the beam of light that connected Harry and Minerva McGonagall and a rush of shadows that ran through them and then away into the distance.

"Calm down Granny!" said Harry sharply. While he did not know the implications of the curse, if it really did what she had asked it to do, Dumbledore would be in severe pain. Not that Harry minded that really. It just however threw uncomfortable images of Dumbledore forcing him to force _him_ to drink the potion in that cave.

"WHY?" she asked, in a tone that showed that she clearly hadn't lost the rush of anger and adrenaline that had fuelled her curse.

"You **work with** him. You will see him everyday suffering as I did for ten years. It will hurt you worse to see the actual suffering if he has to live it out while you see it. Secondly, how many years have you been his friend? Somewhere, however deep, you and maybe all of us who have had some level of contact with that man hold some respect, some degree of affection, even if it is as much as accorded to a distant but good acquaintance. Seeing him suffer will remind you that **you** cast the curse that made him suffer. **You** will be the one racked with guilt; guilt on his behalf for causing the suffering, and on mine, as you will be reminded of the Dursleys' _care_ daily. I despised and distrusted that man ever since he I found out that he sent me to the muggle version of Azkaban with no help as far as dealing with killing a man went. I knew then, that he was just another adult who couldn't be trusted, who would use me to his own ends. He may rot in hell for all I care. I will not have you suffer for that!"

Minerva looked at him with wide eyes, as she realised what he said was true. There was one tiny, miniscule hitch, however. "The curse's already done, Harry. I can't take it back."

"Then promise me that you won't berate yourself about it; that you won't beat yourself up."

That alone warmed the old lady's heart. She had lived for years without a family, without love. Sure there always were a few students who respected and adored their teacher more than others, but there was nothing like the love of family, as she had often mused in that lonely cottage in Dundee. Harry had accepted that she would get angry, aggressive and even outright vicious on his behalf. Like real family though, his only condition was that she wouldn't wallow in guilt or hurt herself. She was accepted for all she was, just as she would have been accepted in her real family. She hugged him, hard. "I promise," she whispered.

A slight cough from Neville broke the rather touching moment. Augusta then spoke out something that had been troubling her. "You know, all this started with a display of tremendous magic from our dear guest. We never spoke about that."

"What's there to speak about that Augusta? Five Patroni, magical animagus forms... perhaps there is only one rule for Harry. Normal rules don't apply." Granny Min was really at her wits end.

"What I want to know about is the modification to the Patronus charm. How do you have five Patroni? What did you do? Can you show us? There won't be any problem with you being underage." This was important. Chief Bones wanted to know if this could help her Aurors.

"I have a bonded wand, Chief Bones. It no longer applies to me. Of course, I'll show you the Happiness Hamper."

"Bonded?" she had started to ask, but then thought better of it, as Harry drew his wand.

"Expecto Patronum! Sustinere Magicae! Absorbet Felicitatem!" he incanted four times and then directed the Patroni to Gran, Neville, Chief Bones and Granny Min. Instantly they started revelling in the feeling of unmitigated happiness and peace that filled them. Harry merely smiled and repeated the process several times over, focussing on Sirius, to whom the new Happiness Hamper was directed. It was really discrete, even with the audience as the said audience was currently beset by peace.

Finally Neville snapped out of his stupor. "That was... awesome!"

"So it was, Mr. Longbottom," commiserated Granny Min.

It was a mark of how truly Neville was evolving, when he replied, "Oh come on now, call me Neville outside of Hogwarts, Granny Min!" At her surprised expression, Neville tried to stifle a grin. When she raised an eyebrow delicately in a manner very reminiscent of her way at Hogwarts, he gulped and replied uncertainly, "If Harry can call my grandmother Gran, like me, I get to call you that too!" That set them all off with a small round of chuckles. It petered out to an uneasy silence that often occurs among small gatherings when nobody has any conversation to start.

"What now?" Neville asked. It was chiefly to fill the uncomfortable silence.

"Well, I have something, well quite a few things to propose here. I believe you are even more averse to learning from Snape?"

"That goes without saying," he replied, a glint of something far beyond anger in his eyes.

"Good. Hogwarts has a rule whereby a student can hire a private tutor for a subject he or she believes the available tuition is not adequate or can be better learnt from another tutor. The tutor has to hold a Mastery certification for the subject. I have the intention to pursue such a course, and am planning to ask Potion-Mistress Andromeda Tonks if she can make the time to teach me. You are welcome to join me. I believe you know who she is?"

"Y-Yes, I have heard of her," he replied uncertainly.

"I will of course not force you to choose either way. However, I think I must provide all the details before you make any decision. Please lodge any protest after I am done. Mrs. Tonks is the disowned sister of Bellatrix Lestrange, and they bear a very striking resemblance at first glance. Her daughter Nymphadora, my cousin, is an Auror cadet, if I am not mistaken, Chief Bones?"

"Indeed. he will pass out later this month. I would most certainly vouch for Andi. She is a dear friend of mine, and I on my part will assure you that she is as unlike Bellatrix as Lily and Petunia were."

"So when I ask her, next Saturday, if you are amenable, I'll ask on your behalf too. I intend to complete my first two years of Potions education this summer, and then continue normally over the rest of the school year with her instead of Snape."

"I'll think about it." At Harry's impassive face, he stuttered out, "Look, it's great that you have thought of that, but I just need time to get over her relation to Bellatrix."

Harry smiled. "It is okay, Nev. If it helps, Bellatrix is my cousin too. I won't pressurise you, I just wanted to tell you about your options. You take your own sweet time. Good, now the second thing is this. You, Neville are going to become an animagus."

"WHAT? ARE YOU BLOODY INSANE?"

"Language!" reprimanded Gran.

"Well, you could say that I am at least slightly insane. Sanity is just too overrated. After all, I do have some Black blood in me, so some faults have to come through, don't they?"

"It is not a joke. Do you know that it is impossible for most magical people to have a form at all? Moreover it is dangerous! I am not powerful enough for that!"

"That's the biggest bunch of myths I have ever heard!"

"Well just because you spontaneously transformed..."

"I am saying that with certainty because the Firewing isn't my only form. How do you think I was hiding from people so hell-bent on trying to make me out to be the Heir of Slytherin?" This was an all-out lie, but it was necessary to goad Neville into letting go of his self-depreciative instincts.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you lot, remember I want to keep this a secret. I am placing a lot of trust in you all." He closed his eyes, and transformed into the Grimm's pup. He had practised enough with it to reduce the transformation time and also to be able to keep his clothes (not that he had much on then) when he transformed back to human form. Harry-pup jumped into Granny Min's arms and washed the stunned woman's face with slobber thoroughly.

"A second form?" she asked weakly, after a while, absent-mindedly scratching his back.

"Yes," said Harry as he transformed back.

"You, of all people, are a dog?"

"Not a dog! That is a Grim!" protested Harry, heavily affronted at being called a 'dog'.

"How did you become an animagus anyway?" asked Granny Min, flabbergasted. "It was my Mastery thesis and dissertation. It took me so long to understand the mechanics of the transformation!"

"Well, last year nobody among the staff was acting in my defence, and people had started to try and 'eliminate' the problem. I was convinced that none of you would do anything, so I took to slinking in the dark as a Grim. I wished and concentrated with all my magic to be some black animal. It just so happened that at that time I was looking for proper information about the various third year electives. There was this book related to Divination about omens. It described a Grim and had pictures of it from all angles. It was black, it apparently lurks in the shadows, and it scares people senseless. Well, it appealed to my sense of humour. If somebody troubled me too much, I could just prowl around them as a Grim. Most magically raised children were afraid of it, as they knew about the omens. So between the attacks and a prowling Grim, people just forgot about me," he shrugged.

Gran and Chief Bones were torn between consternation at his risk-taking, amusement at his antics and irritation at his casual acceptance at being left to fend for himself by the staff. They had long left behind any wonder at the idea of any such feat of magic being possible. Neville was simply astounded and was staring at his friend with wide eyes. Granny Min however, was exasperated, ashamed and angry. "Well, I am sorry about that..."

"...As you should be. In fact, I think it is quite within my rights to ask for a public apology from the staff and students of Hogwarts, barring a few Gryffindors..."

"Yes, you are right about that. Don't you derail my train of thought! Where did you get your hands on the Animagus Form revealing potion? Where did you find a Grim to take hair from? How-"

"What are you talking about? I never took any potion, and I most certainly didn't go near any Grim, well, except myself. I saw the pictures as I told you. I never pay attention in History of Magic anyway, so I constructed a three-dimensionally coalesced image from the pictures. Since that was the form I wanted to achieve, I concentrated on it. I retreated into myself and let all my magic flow into the 3-D image of the Grim. Voila! One freshly transformed grim ready!"

Granny Min sank her head into her palms. "He used the ancient method of the Indian Yogis. I thought it was a fib!" Looking up at him with a pleading sort of exasperated expression, she asked, "Is it too much for you to do things normally?"

"Potters don't do normal! Now at the cost of sounding like Lockhart, enough about me! I did not become an animagus by discussions! Do you want to try mate?"

"Well it won't hurt, will it?"

"No. There will be a few amusing incidences like being partially transformed or losing your clothes, but nothing beyond that. I had ended up looking like the paintings they show of that Egyptian God inside the pyramids," he snickered.

"You simply had to give me that image, didn't you?" Neville moaned.

"Yes," replied Harry smugly.

Neville was clearly enthusiastic about the idea, but worried about mishaps. "Gran, may I try?"

"Harry if you are so set on corrupting my grandson, you have to promise that you'll help him. If he gets stuck, it will be your duty to help him out. I am going out on a limb here trusting you. You are clearly proficient at that process, so it is your responsibility to help him and keep him safe. Do you promise?"

"I promise on my life, honour and magic to help Neville," he said.

"Then you may try, Neville," she told her grandson, making him break out into a huge grin.

"The next bit is for Chief Bones."

"Great, he has more shocks in store for me!" she growled.

"Yes, I do. This is very serious. There is an Acromantula nest in the forbidden forest, very close to Hogwarts. There are more than a hundred of those things in there. If the Ministry can do something about it..."

By this time all his companions had paled,

"There's an A-Acromantula nest?" Chief Bones rasped. "Minerva, remind me please. Is Hogwarts a school or a magical menagerie? A Cerberus, a basilisk, acromantula on school land... Merlin! I will have to look into it. Susan was near those things," she shuddered violently.

"Thank you Madam. At the cost of seeming rude, I believe it is time we adjourned. I for one might have overstayed my welcome. I thank you Madam Longbottom, Scion Longbottom for your hospitality. Polly, thank you. It was an excellent dinner. I apologise for the dramatics that the dinner descended into; it wasn't my intention, I assure you. Professor, Chief Bones, I also apologise to you for the trouble I may have caused. Chief Bones, the rules state that I must register my form within three months of graduating from Hogwarts or within three months of turning seventeen, whichever comes earlier. I hope that you can keep my secret till then? We have a war coming, unless all the other bits and pieces of Voldemort are found. With what I have told you, I believe it will be a useful secret to have."

"While I hate to agree, I have to agree, nevertheless. Should it so happen that we reach the conclusion of the saga that is Tom Riddle, I'll expect you to register immediately."

"Of course, I will do so."

And so it was that their dinner meeting with several uninvited but not unwelcome guests fizzled out to an anti-climatic end.

* * *

Away in Brazil, Albus Dumbledore shuddered just before the start of his day. It was an important day, a day when he was going to put forward his missive opposing the proposal by the international group consisting of Welsh Druids, Maori, Native American and North African Shamans, Indian Yogic ascetics, and Oriental mage-masters to introduce a course on International Magics as an elective and then later, a compulsory subject in magical schools across the world. These misguided people did not understand that more knowledge was a sure-shot way to come up with more Dark Lords as they would find newer ways for atrocities. It was for the Greater Good that this idea needed to be shot down. Then there was that truly detestable magical participation in terrorism in the muggle world.

But it wasn't to be his day. He woke up to a shrill screech that made him grope around for his wand to banish the Banshee. He could no longer sleep thereafter. He started feeling claustrophobic in his room, and it suddenly smelled of used brooms and boots. He couldn't for the life of him fathom what the matter was. When he went off for breakfast later that day, he found out that the hotel staff had pulled out an en masse strike. They would have to cook their breakfasts themselves. Albus had become, over the period of his nearly one hundred and twenty two years of life, a cook of at least some skill. To his eternal dismay, he found out that several of his peers weren't. He ended up being helped to cook by many. Funnily enough, everyone meddling had its effect. The food was hardly palatable. With not much time left to start the day's proceedings, Albus had to eat what little they cooked that could be eaten. He felt really starved.

That wasn't the end of his tribulations. He was reduced to a bumbling idiot during his speech, fidgeting and stuttering through it. It was obvious that his arguments did not ring sharp. He had always known that the North Korean delegates were hotheads. He realised just how much of a hothead one of them was, when he decided to forcibly and physically punish Dumbledore for his failings. The old man could not react. It bloody hurt. And it was a very poor situation for him. He couldn't complain to anyone, seeing that he himself was the Supreme Mugwump. Any punishment of any sort had to be ratified by the entire congregation. He could have hexed the man several ways to hell and back, but it was unseemly behaviour from a wizard of his stature. And bringing it in open to the confederation would have been a slight against his position.

Albus would soon realise that his bad luck was not an isolated condition for one day. He didn't believe in karma, but over the last years of his life, he would.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summers are Placid for Some**

Hermione was lounging on a pool chair beside the pool at the hotel in Nice, in a stupor of sleep. Lately, the self-same sleep wasn't something that she could honestly say was something she enjoyed each night. To any other tourist at the hotel, the (modest) bikini-clad girl would seem nothing out of the ordinary, and her less than ideal condition could have been easily dismissed as the effect of a late night. The truth couldn't be further apart. The young, teenage girl had had a spate of terror-stricken nights ever since her return from Hogwarts, the school which the young witch attended.

It had started with recurring dreams of seeing the eyes of the basilisk. Only, in the dreams, she no longer saw the eyes reflected from some surface, but stared directly into them, resulting in her turning into stone and floating away to join Moaning Myrtle in haunting her bathroom. Each time she would wake up in cold sweat, sure in the knowledge that she was dead, before realising that it was just another nightmare. Over the first week, she had learnt to dismiss the nightmare. But that had given rise to another nightmare. And if she was to be frank with herself, this one was much more terrifying for her.

The first night, it had been the basilisk biting Harry, her best friend. While this had been true even in reality, he had been saved by the tears of Fawkes the phoenix. In her dreams however, the ethereal figure of Tom Riddle leered at her as she was set to stand, a petrified statue, while the basilisk killed her friend. She had sprung to wakefulness screaming her best friend's name. She hadn't even come to terms with that one when it changed again; this time it was the Headmaster whom she had once respected, killing Harry because it was the only way in which Voldemort could be killed. She had cried that night, cried till she had fallen asleep again, only to be woken by the same dream. The night before, she had slept, or tried to sleep with her head under a pillow in an attempt to stifle her scream if the nightmare woke her again. That had been one harebrained idea, however. She had felt so uncomfortable and so suffocated, that she had ended up forgoing sleep. That was the reason why she was faring so poorly at staying awake.

She idly mused over her first two years at Hogwarts. It had been so wonderful to realise that there was an explanation to all the odd incidents and accidents that seemed to occur centred on her. She had always thought of magic as a fascinating fictitious entity that only existed in books she had long left behind in the litany of books she had read. To learn that not only was it a reality, but also a reality, a facet of her life was a shock. There had been a part of her that never really fit in with her non-magical peers. She had seen magic as a way to explain why she was different as compared to those around her. Her parents hadn't been too happy about the whole business and had thought that it was all an elaborate prank. Her insistence had won in the end, though, and she had attended Hogwarts the following September. The early days hadn't been very happy for her. It had been a reiteration of her social interactions during her academic endeavours in the non-magical world. She was shunned for her obsessive passion for learning, and that had led to several rounds of tears shed in the confines and privacy of her dormitory or the bathrooms.

The first two months however, had nearly proven to be more than she could bear, and Hermione knew what the difference was. At home, she had her parents to turn to when the chips were down. At Hogwarts, in Northern Scotland, so far away from them, her homesickness had only added to her troubles. She had been contemplating returning home, and was on her way to write to her parents to the very effect, when disaster had struck. A twelve foot, ten tonne chunk of brainless moving mass had decided that she was a fair target to strike at. As her life flashed by her eyes, however, something miraculous had happened. A small boy with messy hair and startling green eyes had jumped on to the Troll's back in an effort to divert its attention. While her redheaded tormentor got the better of the troll in the end, it was still the sight of the boy, Harry Potter, who had rushed to her rescue that made her heart flutter. She grimaced immediately. That was a line straight out of those mushy romance novels. It did **not** apply to her. Yet, she admitted to herself with a blush, that, she had harboured a small crush on her friend from then on.

Two years at the school had brought on several injuries to Harry, but worse still it had also brought confrontations with a Dark Lord who didn't know how to stay dead. Each time, she realised, Harry had nearly died. But the climax was at the end of the previous year. Acting on the knowledge that his scar kept a piece of Voldemort alive, a piece that would threaten her, that could hurt her, Harry had stabbed his scar and almost died again. That had been the most terrifying moment for her. She had never felt so helpless and devastated as she had felt for those two days when it was not known whether or not he would make it. But then he had pulled through. He had made it through a situation that the headmaster was clearly working towards into the future. At that moment she had wanted nothing better than to slap Harry silly before hugging the stuffing out of him. That was exactly what she had done.

The Harry that had emerged through the ordeal though was not the one she had grown accustomed to. For one, he had developed an impish sense of humour. For another, he had started taking a stance on his own. She had been very disappointed when he had chosen subjects for an easy pass as electives. That was the first thing he had rectified after he had emerged better off from the whole incident. Ron hadn't been very happy about it, but Harry had given him very convincing arguments to turn to Runes himself. That was though nothing compared to the way he had literally fought off her wish to take up all subjects. With detailed information about every subject (something he had worked on during her petrifaction because he had missed her; he had missed her!) he had shown her the biggest flaw in her plans to learn all subjects. She had been unable to refute or argue against whatever he said, and had ended up agreeing to his veiled orders.

What had really shown through was the detailed analysis of her study habits which had made him worry that she would burn herself out. While she had ruthlessly quashed her growing soft corner for him after the troll, she couldn't do that so easily now. Especially not now that he had in his own way shown her that she mattered to him more than anyone else. She was still however trying to justify the denial that it was so. She hugged herself tightly, as a sudden draft by her side alerted her towards the presence of her mother.

"A penny for your thoughts, Hermione?" she asked.

"It is no-nothing mum," Hermione replied with a stifled yawn.

"Hermione, do I have to remind you that I am you mother? I can see that something is the matter with my baby-girl. I just want to know what it is. You haven't been enjoying this vacation as much as you usually do. You have bags under your eyes, signifying that you haven't slept well for the past two weeks. And I say past two weeks because you seemed perfectly well when you returned from school. Is this some sort of, say spell or bewitchment, that makes you school-sick or something like that? Is this another way in which those people are trying to tear you away from us?" Jean asked heatedly.

"Mum!" exclaimed Hermione, scandalised. "There is nothing of that sort. It is illegal for anyone to attempt such things! I understand that you don't like the idea of me being apart from you for so long, along with the idea of a world that you can't see or understand, but I can no more be torn away from you than I can be torn away from the magical world!"

Jean sighed. This had been a long running discussion-cum-argument in the Granger home. David wanted Hermione to be safe and protected, but had started dithering when she wrote home about her friends with real, unfeigned glee. Truth be told, Jean wasn't as much against magic as she was against the idea of the horrors that this school had. She also resented this Harry character a little. Jean wanted to really see and know this punk that commanded such devotion and loyalty from Hermione. She remembered the little girl that once upon a time accorded that status to David, Jean and her books.

"Look, dear. I just don't understand why you still want to go to that place when you have nearly been killed twice before. I just hope that you don't hide things fearing that we will pull you out, because, well I won't lie to you, it is something I am actively considering. You have got David wrapped around your little finger, but I won't be so easy to convince!" She glared at her daughter for good measure. She knew that this was going to bring up a flare from Hermione, as it had done each time the subject had been broached before. Hermione, for her part had explained why it was important for her to continue her magical education personally. There was no information that she could provide in answer to the question: What would happen if she withdrew from the magical world? Hermione really didn't know the answer.

"You can't do that to me!" Hermione cried with the righteous teenage rebellion. "Don't you know how much I wanted friends? Don't you know how long I have tried to understand this part of me when none of you could really explain it? Why would you tear me away from my Ha- my friends?" She burst into tears and ran to her room.

It was a slip that Hermione most certainly didn't ever think she would make, yet, it was a big slip, and potentially costly, she thought. Jean caught onto that slip, and understood that there was much more at play than a simple crush for Hermione to behave that way. It made her blood boil to hear her daughter rebelling against her; yet the simple act of really behaving her age also warmed Jean's heart at the same time. She needed to talk to her daughter, but knew that nothing would be achieved till she calmed down.

* * *

That evening, David was a silent spectator as mother and daughter danced around and pointedly ignored each other. To be fair, Jean had tried to talk to Hermione, but had been patently ignored, making her lose her temper. Each of them was asking David to pass them the dishes and if at all it was absolutely necessary for them to communicate, he was made to act as the go-between. It irritated him to no end.

"That's enough you two!" he snarled, finally unable to take Hermione's muttering and Jean's veiled sniping. "Go to our room, now! Why are you both behaving like whining pre-adolescents? I cannot fathom the reason; but whatever the matter is between you two, it will be resolved today!" The two startled Granger women looked at David in shock before hurrying through the remnant of their dinner. David rarely raised his voice, though he was wilful and assertive when he needed to be. Such a loss of temper never boded well. David, it seemed, had an almost supernatural control over his temper.

About an hour later, once they were in their room, David locked the door and ordered in a most neutral voice, "Talk."

Hermione, knowing that she stood a better chance at convincing her father before her mother decided what was best for her, blurted out, "I told her everything that happened at Hogwarts! She knew, because Professor McGonagall had written to her! Now that there is no danger, I want to go back! She is going to pull me out!" To her school-mates, Hermione always seemed to be the most mature person ever (which she was), more akin to a fifty-year old child, but with her father (and very lately, with Harry), she could totally drop her guard and throw a tantrum or two. For the big fight, she had brought out the big guns.

"And I am entirely justified to take that decision, young lady! Twice in two years has your life been in danger in that school! I want my daughter safe and alive, and if that means sacrificing magic, so be it."

"But you don't understand! It is not just magic that I'll miss. I have friends there now, and I want to go back! You haven't even met any of them. Why can't you make a decision after that? I'll miss them, just as they'll miss me! And I can no more give up magic than I can give up being human, so that is a faulty argument in the first place!"

"Why can't you have friends in the non-magical world?"

"Stop it Jean! The same goes for you, Hermione! Each of you may be right from your individual points of view, but arguing without further basis and data will not help us make a proper decision at all. Hermione, your mother is right in that the school hasn't been safe for you at all. Last year it was the- what was it? Ah, yes, it was the Troll on Halloween. This past year, it was a gigantic snake that has looks that can kill, quite literally, that petrified you. Looking at it with your mother's eyes, and I must admit, through mine too, we are scared that we will lose our daughter, in reality and not as a metaphor, to that world. You, Jean, have to realise that Hermione has her own place, her own world within that world, and it will hurt her to be taken away from the school, even if we enrol her in some other school."

"You can't be serious David! She says she has friends, and what did we see of them? That redheaded boy's father was brawling in public! The other boy, he was dressed in rags David! ..."

"And yet, that same boy slew the same gigantic snake that hurt your daughter, mum! You never complained about Harry's **_rags_** during the reading when he gave us a million galleons, did you?"

"Don't make this out to be about money, Hermione! You were petrified, but that boy could've died! The rags comment was most certainly not about money, even if it was in bad taste. What sort of school needs twelve year olds to kill monsters lurking in its bowels, magic or no?"

"But that's just the point! Harry did it because nobody else could do it. The chamber of secrets could be opened only by Parselmouths, and only the attacker and Harry had the ability! Nobody else could have done that!"

"THAT TO MY MIND BECOMES A POINT AGAINST THIS HARRY CREATURE!" shouted Jean. "HOW ARE WE TO BELIEVE THAT IT WASN'T HIM THAT SET THAT SNAKE ON YOU ALL?"

"ENOUGH! DON'T YOU DARE IMPLICATE HARRY, MUM! YOU KNOW NOTHING, NOTHING ABOUT WHAT HE HAD TO ENDURE, AND I'LL BE DAMNED IF MY OWN MOTHER ACCUSES HIM OF ATTACKING ME, WHEN HE ALMOST DIED TRYING TO SAVE ME, THRICE IN TWO YEARS!" She cast an almost hateful glare at her mother, shocking the woman completely, before stalking off.

"You know, Jean, generally it is a father's job to be unreasonable and angry with his daughter concerning her safety. But even I couldn't have made a hash of things as you have. What were you thinking, accusing the one person she trusts above all others in that place? I am warning you, woman, don't make the same mistake that your dear mother did. Don't ask her to choose between you and a friend whom she has seen do just about anything for her! You won't like it."

* * *

True to David's prediction, Jean soon realised, her dispute with her daughter deteriorated their relation pretty quickly. Neither spoke to the other unless absolutely necessary, and truth be told, it was tearing them up inside. What made matters worse was the fact that over the week Hermione's nightmares escalated to such a situation that she simply dreaded falling asleep. It was causing her health to get worse and worse. Jean wanted nothing more than to put the silly quarrel aside and care for her daughter- and it was exactly what she was doing for her part. Hermione however, was unable to put aside her stand on the matter, and refused to step down from her pedestal.

The Granger family toured Paris, Strasbourg, Bordeaux and Marseille along with Nice where the blow-up had occurred. The jovial and vibrant atmosphere that had defined their vacation for the most part in Paris (a long stop), followed by Strasbourg and Nice, was decidedly absent during their travels through Marseille and Bordeaux. A diagnosis by a physician in Bordeaux had confirmed that it was nothing more than a minor shock that had made Hermione slightly ill; the effect was more psycho-somatic than anything else. They had had to extend their stay in Lille to allow her to recuperate, and had to skip or cut short their visits to several other destinations. By all means, this was among the worst vacations the Grangers had ever had. When they finally reached Dover, they stayed in the city for a further two days. The incessant motion of the road trip was not helping Hermione get any better at all.

It was during their stay in Dover that Jean decided that she had endured an estrangement with her daughter for long enough; certainly for longer than she could bear. They had had to share a room due to the unavailability of rooms, and with Hermione needing care due to her illness Jean had taken up the mantle.

"Kitten, please talk to me no-now," she said to her daughter, running her hand through her tangled chestnut locks, sniffling ever so slightly. "It has been a pain to not talk to you. I am angry with the school, but I can't be angry with you, you know." Hermione blearily looked at her mother, and then without wasting a second, extended her hands and wrapped her mother's waist clumsily. That was the cue for Jean as she hugged her daughter for all that she was worth.

"I really am sorry, Kitten. You know how much your father and I love you. It scared me when we learnt that you were a witch. But the past two years, with you so far away, I have been terrified for you. I have seen you every day for twelve years, Pumpkin. Then we get letters from school that tell us you almost died, or were petrified, and I start wishing that David hadn't ever let that witch McGonagall into the house. But then I read your letters home about Harry and Ron and your schoolwork, I just can't help but feel happy. It tears me up. On one hand there is the question regarding your safety, and then there is your happiness at being among people who seem to genuinely like you and accept you. I-I just don't know what to do!"

Hermione, who was hearing her mother's rambled apology, was feeling doubly bad about ignoring her mother. She really wanted to talk to her, but the week long silence was fuelled by her words about Harry. It had hurt her too much to hear her mother speak the same language as Harry's tormentors at Hogwarts. This was Harry, who was willing to leave her forever to ensure her safety. It still rankled. She put these thoughts out for Jean to hear.

"I am sorry for that too, and I am going to apologise to Harry for my words, even if he hasn't heard them. I agree that I have to meet him before passing any judgement. It's just that when your child gets hurt, all rational thought flies out of the window. You are too young to understand this, Pumpkin, but one day, when your children go to Hogwarts, as I am sure they will, you will understand what we really go through as parents. It is simply scary." She kissed Hermione's forehead as she continued her ministrations.

Hermione was struck by her words as she understood the pain that her mother hadn't been able to put into words easily. Perhaps one day, she **would** know. She tried putting herself in her mother's place, standing on platform 9 ¾ as she bid goodbye to one or more of her children (probably bushy black or brown haired and green or hazel eyed, she thought with a blush) while the remaining whined and pouted at being left behind, with their parents having to console them. She understood how it would be to miss her child, though she couldn't yet empathise. She smiled weakly at her mother, and then said in a very raspy weak voice, "I know, mum. I love you!" before burying her head somewhere in Jean's stomach. Jean could only smile wistfully at her daughter, as she started to caress the back of her head, as she realised that Hermione was growing into a young lady.

"I love you too, Kitten," she said with a sigh.

* * *

On their return to their home in Crawley two days later, David and Jean decided that their long delayed discussion regarding Hermione's education. The daughter that they had known for twelve years was an ambitious, precocious girl, whose thirst for knowledge and sheer desire to use that knowledge for something worthwhile, defined her very existence. She had made plans to pursue medicine and surgery at one point of time, before her attention had turned towards law, order and justice. She had predilection towards numbers and maths too, so she had just decided to do her best all the time and choose her career later- an essential case of crossing a bridge when one came to it.

When Professor McGonagall had turned up with the news, and proof of Hermione being a witch, all their plans had been hit for a six. It was something that none of them had even joked about after any incidents of accidental magic. They had never thought of anything like magic, even in their wildest imaginations. After all, who plans for their child having special powers, or that said child needs to be trained to control the power? The first thing that had never agreed with Jean was the idea of a boarding school. How could such complete strangers expect parents to part with their children for more than three quarters of a year, especially to send them to a place that they couldn't even see? How could anyone trust their children's lives and safety, not only during school, but also in terms of a career after they completed their schooling?

That the witch had not given any information about the social and economic structure and the nature of jobs, or the options after graduating from Hogwarts, as well as the expected pay-scale in the magical world, both Jean, and to a slightly lesser extent David, had felt extremely uneasy about the whole magic business. It was only Hermione's insistence that convinced them to at least give it all a chance. They were fairly well-off, so fortunately, they had a way to keep her career from being destroyed. There was also the more pressing problem which would arise if she stayed in the magical world. Would she have to withdraw from what those people call the 'muggle' world? Would she be able to traverse both worlds just as easily?

Then there was the problem that all parents of all teenage girls worry over: boys. When she came to be of such an age when she would be noticed by those infernal beings that existed simply to cause worry and gray hair for parents of girls, how were they to keep things on the straight and narrow? Even more worryingly, how were they to protect her if there was a bewitchment of some sort to make their daughter love some boy? (Had Harry known their thoughts, he would have shuddered recognising the truth in their words.) For Jean, that was one of the fears she held regarding Harry. While it was entirely plausible that Hermione would develop a schoolgirl crush at the very least for one of the two boys who were her best friends, and having heard about each of them, she had to agree that this Harry was at least better than that redhead who just seemed to be interested in riling her up. Yet she was a mother, and as such she was bound by the unwritten code of all parents that no boy would ever be good enough for their daughter.

At the end of the day, so many different arguments against Hermione returning to Hogwarts, warred against the single biggest factor in the 'for' list: her happiness. Whatever the dangers she may have had faced in her first two years at the school, neither of her parents were able to deny the fact that she was happier among her peers than they had ever seen her before. That it helped her mix with other people who were like her was an added bonus, as that had been a factor in her isolation from others during her time at the non-magical school.

In the end, both parents reached a very startling conclusion. Their daughter was a hapless victim of a tug-of-war between two worlds which were partly unable and wholly refusing to understand and accommodate the other. They needed somebody who was well-versed, or at least acquainted with the vagaries of life either side of the magical divide, and was also their daughter's friend. They needed to meet Harry Potter.


	18. Chapter 18

**Matters Come to a Head**

OTT/Crack! Warning. Also Minerva McGonagall is assumed to be a pureblood.

* * *

The acceptance ceremony for the Head of House Positions went without a shred of dramatics (for the most part, and by Harry's standards), barring the arrest and presumably the execution of Griphook and Teller Bagrip, making Harry sigh in relief. The ceremony started at the appointed time in Goldhaul's office chambers. Since the Gryffindor, Slytherin and Peverell Headships had long gone unclaimed, Rubyclaw, Hightab and Biggem, the four of the People involved in Financial Management with whom Harry had interacted, took up the mantle.

None of these Houses had had their Heirs' or Lords' rings claimed, so there wasn't going to be a matter of dispute. With only the Slytherin ring having an apparently recognised heir, who had lost his rights to Harry, there wasn't going to be a problem. The only rider was the emancipation. If the Gryffindor Lord's ring chose him, he would be allowed to try the other three. If he was chosen by his own House Ring, it was automatic emancipation, with a one week time period for the paperwork to be passed. He sincerely hoped that it would work.

As such, since Gryffindor was the earliest house to go extinct in the male line, and the Potter line was the senior-most remaining direct lineage that could prove their heredity, as the last daughter to bear the name had married into the Ancient and Most Noble House of Potter. As such, all ensuing Heads of House could claim themselves to be Potter-Gryffindor, but had chosen not to. That was primarily because it was also claimed sometimes by other lines that had married into the Gryffindor line. With most Houses marrying into each other at some point of time, the House Ring had passed liberally, particularly between the Potter, Longbottom and the now extinct line of Therion. There was also the fact that the ring had a mind of its own. Harry decided that as the House did not require a different Heir from the Potter Line, he would continue the tradition of his forebears. The other two houses would need individual heirs.

Before the ceremonies started, Goldhaul had a question to ask. Goblins never brought any subjects into a discussion unless it pertained to the appointment, without the client's express request. Goldhaul had asked Harry some time before whether he wanted to perform the Ceremony of acceptance of the Head of House Rings. "Griffinheart, why did you not come to me when you came to Gringotts on your eleventh birthday? You could have performed this ceremony then. You wouldn't have been emancipated, but you would have been affirmed as the Head of House Potter. If your parents' Testament of Will contained any stipulations for the same, your emancipation too would have been completed then and there in the presence of a Ministry approved Executor."

Harry really had no answer to that. He knew nothing at all, and had been totally dumbfounded that day. He told them all about how Hagrid had been the one to introduce him to the magical world, and that he had never had any letters from anyone in the magical world.

"But even in that case, after you turned eleven, you should've responded to our letters," groused Goldhaul. He was pretty sure what the matter was, but he wanted things confirmed.

"What letters? I never got any from Gringotts, **_ever_** ," replied Harry with not a little shock. It was... unwise... to anger the People. He thought about it for a moment before looking back at Goldhaul, who was looking at Harry with a very shrewd and calculating gaze. "Are you thinking what I am thinking, Goldhaul? That this could be more meddling by Dumbledore- Owl Redirection?"

"Precisely so, Griffinheart, that is indeed my suspicion. What else happened that day? Do you remember who the Goblins that catered to your request for the vaults that day were? Was your key with you? It was their duty to take you to me."

"I don't know who the teller was, but the Goblin who took me to my trust vault was Griphook. I wouldn't like to insinuate anything untoward, but is it possible that the teller and Griphook _may_ have reported to Dumbledore or taken orders from him in anyway?" Harry asked with not a little trepidation.

"Fear not, Griffinheart. I must say that we are on the same track as far as our suspicions go. It is sheer dumb luck, something that we don't abide by, that the news that Pettigrew was incarcerated at Gringotts did not reach outside ears. Lord Presumptive Black would have been harmed in that case. Rest assured that we will be investigating the matter thoroughly and very... fitting and permanent punishment will be meted out."

"Master Goldhaul, if my saying so may not be imprudent, would it be possible to check all Garnarukran?"

"What are you insinuating Griffinheart?" Goldhaul asked with thinly disguised anger.

Harry did not waver as he faced the Garnarukra. "Both you and I have suspicions about two among the People. Is there any reason why some may not be enticed by any from the Death Eaters? I refuse to be anything less than vigilant, even while trusting those who I feel are my own."

Adding the last sentence was wise and the perfect flattery (even if it wasn't). Goldhaul looked at him in an inscrutable manner, before nodding.

"For now let the matter rest. Your concerns will be relayed to the Lord-Director along with our investigations into the conduct of Griphook and the Teller in question. Rest assured, there **_will not_** be any such traitors. With your acquiescence, we will proceed with the business we have gathered for, today." They were all led into a room far underneath the ground, which was massive, to say the least. It seemed to be a cube of hundred feet in each dimension. The size made them gape shocked.

Rubyclaw started the proceedings. "Griffinheart, for the remainder of this day, you shall be considered human and addressed thus. Do you contest that?"

"No, Master Rubyclaw. I do not contest."

"Do you attest on your honour, life, and magic that you are Hadrian James Potter, and that you come to claim your rightful positions of your own volition?"

"Yes, Master Rubyclaw. I do attest."

"Then, in my position as the keeper of the heritage for the lineage of Gryffindor, I, Senior Account Manager Rubyclaw, do hereby call forth the ceremonial judgement of valour, character and honour." A golden flash engulfed the table, as an ornate ceremonial knife with the hilt carved with a roaring lion and a ceremonial bowl with Runes etched onto it appeared in front of Rubyclaw. "The magic of judgement demands to test the claimant. Hadrian James Potter, pay the required drops of blood."

Harry had expected it, and barely flinched as he made a deep cut on his right palm. At the fourth drop of blood, the bowl flashed again, and the lion on the knife gave a deafening roar. The ring, on cue, emerged in the bowl, replacing the blood. It was a gold band with a ruby-carved mane for a golden roaring lion. Not too flashy or different, but then again, its real value was in the magic it contained.

"Magic has judged the claimant to be the correct bearer of this ring. Hadrian James Potter, wear the ring now, and if magic chooses you to bear it here onwards, before your coming of age, you may claim all that the Head of House Position entails." He had written down the claiming oath for Harry to read when it came to it. Harry lifted the ring from the bowl, and sure enough, it fit into his right ring finger without a hitch.

"I, Hadrian James Potter, by right of inheritance and blood, claim all rights, oaths, possessions, privileges and items, all knowledge stolen from and lent by the House, as well as debts owed by and to the House, fealty sworn and duties as befitting the Head of the House of Gryffindor. So I say, so I claim!"

A rush of magic swelled through Harry, as he once more transformed into the Griffin, this time as an affirmation of his lineage, causing all of the People to bow and kneel before him. Harry wasn't ready for this, but instinctively willed himself back to the muggle clothes wearing human body that he called his own.

"That was scary," said Harry as he shuddered under the power still coursing through him.

Rubyclaw, though, was having none of it and continued, "May I be the first to congratulate Lord Gryffindor!"

"Thank you, Master Rubyclaw. I affirm the duties associated with the name, and swear to stand honourably true to the values and ideals of my House. I also swear to stand with Gringotts using wand and sword, should it so happen that they find themselves in conflict against those with evil designs. Should it so happen that that Gringotts fights those among my allies, I shall attempt to stave off any battle and bloodshed, and to find a solution befitting the honour of all parties involved."

This was new for the People. Here was a Wizard who was freely offering friendship and equal status to the Nation through his oath as the Head of House. It vindicated their stance when he was named Griffinheart.

Goldhaul took Rubyclaw's place. "In my position as the keeper of the heritage for the lineage of Potter, I Senior Account Manager Goldhaul, do hereby call forth the ceremonial judgement of valour, character, wisdom and honour."

The same dagger that had appeared for the Gryffindor House Ring now flashed again for this ceremony. Harry repeated the process, this time under Goldhaul's directions. This time, a golden ring with a large sapphire engraved with a red lion (a magnificent piece of ruby-inlay work) appeared in the bowl. The ring itself had several Runes etched on it, both on the inside and the outside. It did not even wait for Harry to pick it up. It just decided that it had lain unclaimed by the rightful Lord for too long, and _flew_ to fit itself on Harry's ring finger. It then coalesced into the Gryffindor ring.

"Er... I believe the ring has been spoken for," Harry said uncertainly. The four Account Managers just looked at the ring, then at Harry, and then in a very human gesture, Goldhaul just waved his hand at Harry, as if to say, "Just get on with it!"

"I, Hadrian James Potter, by right of inheritance and blood, claim all rights, oaths, possessions, privileges and items, all knowledge stolen from and lent by the House, as well as debts owed by the House and owed to the House, fealty sworn and duties as befitting the Head of the House of Potter. So I say, so do I claim!"

This time a flash of power was much more obvious and encompassing this time. It was as if an electric current had run along the length of Harry's spine and reached somewhere right into his brain. Harry was entirely sure that it was as if the ring had run some magical probe to detect anything 'not Potter', so to speak. The shudder of magic passing through him seemed to be another block being removed from his core, if he understood the situation correctly. He was going to make sure that the bastard Dumbledore was burnt daily for this. "Well," he thought grimly, "there must be some magics pertaining to the fealty oath of a Vassal to his Liege-lord. I totally intend to make him pay."

The Peverell Ring Ceremony came in next, as that was the last of the inherited Houses. It wasn't native to the House of Potter, as the last true holder, Anthony Cavendish had died sometime in the early seventh century, and his only son had been a squib. That Ring had then been claimed by Slytherin, as the sole remaining magical descendent of Cadmus. James hadn't been able to come out of hiding to claim his inheritances at all, and that meant that Harry was the only bona fide claimant left.

This wasn't really a Ring ceremony per se, as there really was no ring to adorn Harry's finger. This was a house that had achieved the status of a Noble House _before_ the Founders' Houses had come around. After all, Harry was pretty sure that the Ring which would have been the heirloom was in the Gaunt Shack. Cadmus and Ignotus had had Heirs, but Antioch, the eldest brother had been killed before he could have any sons. Harry had actually studied Nature's Nobility and other books on Wizarding Genealogy to find the roots and his ancestry. Harry hadn't expected the Ring to materialise, as magics of the two ceremonies- that of the Head of House and the evil Horcrux ritual- would have been unable to mix. However, Magic had to provide Harry with a token, if it was him and not Voldemort that would be recognised as the rightful claimant.

What none of them had bargained for was the spirit of the three brothers making an appearance. It spoke as if in stereo, but Harry realised that it was actually all three brothers speaking together. "Who claims the rights and duties, holdings and debts, honour and fealties owed to and owed by our Noble House of Peverell?" The question was followed by a long claxon like sound which reminded Harry severely of the recorded voices on telephones. ("Please leave your message after the beep!")

"It is I, Hadrian James Potter, descendent to Ignotus, and the current holder of his cloak."

"Behold brothers, the descendent to the youngest and wisest of us, comes forward to stake his claim! Why do none of the children of Antioch or Cadmus do so?"

"Antioch the eldest, died childless, murdered for his wand. Cadmus' heir, Salazar Slytherin, had claimed the ring by rightful inheritance."

"Salazar, yes we remember him. A good man was he, and wanted to help his brother in all but blood set up a magical school. He and his wife, born from the ones without magic, had seen firsthand how fear among the non-magical caused hatred against magical children. He had wanted to protect these so called children of the Devil by making their non-magical kin forget about them. It was a steep price to pay for a life, but Godric Gryffindor agreed that it was the true way to help the children. What has happened to his children?"

Harry was taken aback. Salazar Slytherin wanted to protect the muggleborn? "Respected forebears, the history taught today is very different to the story you tell me. Indeed, Salazar's children have bastardised his legacy, if what you say is true."

"Do you doubt our words, kinsman?" roared the voice.

"I do not doubt your words, noble ancestors. I merely attempt to tell you what we are being told in my day. The description of Salazar is that he was a person who prized the purity of blood above all, and only accepted what are known as purebloods in his House. The claims about him are that he even stored a basilisk under the school for the purpose of exterminating the muggleborn students."

"Who dares spread these lies about the one born of our family? Salazar most certainly did not believe in such foolishness. How could he, when his mother and wife were both born of the mundane? Who gave the non-magical people the vile word muggle? What is this pureblood concept that you talk about, kinsman?"

"As you rightly surmised, the word muggle has been properly accepted to describe the mundane. Would you please tell me the true meaning of that vile word, as you called it? As far as the pureblood concept goes, the Slytherin House now only accepts those born to magical people with at least two generations of ancestors being witches and wizards. The sorry state of the House today, is such, that any witch or wizard who belonged there has the dubious distinction of being termed evil. Tom Marvolo Riddle, the last claimant of Salazar's legacy, has gone so far as to organise a widespread extermination of the mundane-born magical people, or as he called them, mudbloods."

"Preposterous!" hissed the voice. "Salazar believed that witches and wizards should only marry other witches and wizards, instead of the mundane, as they were always going to understand what their child could do. It helped stave off persecution. That was why he needed to protect the mundane born students. Many of them were killed by their own parents! The only decisive factor was power, and it has been a very old belief, that if the parents were powerful, the children would be even more so.

"Salazar had taken up a study of genealogy to understand this belief, and had taken to experimentation. He wanted to calculate the power of each person, and match it with the ancestry of that person. He had started what he called, a scientific study of magical genetics. His own wife, Arlene was just as powerful as he was, and his daughter and son from her were even more so, lending credence to the theory in his mind. He also found that the mundane born were often among the top echelons of magical power. He surmised that as magic reappeared as powers in them, it was apparently, undiluted. Why would he destroy such precious magical blood?

"As far as the word muggle is concerned, it is extremely derogatory. Those with low power tended to marry among the mundane. The nature of magic is such that it assists the birth of children until magical power is asserted to the highest limit possible. Since the mundane had no magical power, and their magical spouses had very little power to begin with, they had few or no children at all. The term muggle therefore refers to as a barren mule!"

To say that Harry was floored was an understatement. There was still a question, therefore. How did Tom Riddle come to be the most powerful magic user of several generations around him? A poor answer though it was, 'Exception prove the rue' seemed to be apt.

Salazar Slytherin was no blood snob- he instead wanted nothing more than to protect all magical blood and to understand the origin of magical power in humans. What he had tried to research wasn't all that far from the most famous gist of Charles Darwin's work: Survival of the fittest.

"Does that mean that if two magical with really low power or if they are very closely related, their children will be born mundane?"

"Why would closely related people be married? It is so ghastly and is a terminal sin! Magic that flows through blood, must find new magic, totally different from itself to mate with, to grow. Magical marriages are beyond just a way for procreation. It is where different manifestations of magic mix to form a magic that is new, magic that has a life and soul of its own. As for your other question, the answer is yes."

Harry was finding himself at crossroads. Expecting to find himself the one pulling a massive prank on the legacy of Salazar Slytherin, he had only found out that Slytherin was not altogether different from Harry at all. In fact, he had started scientific investigation long before the mundane had. It meant somewhere along the line, one of Salazar's descendents and Voldemort's ancestors had been the one to misconstrue his research and turn his findings on their head.

"Now kinsman, tell us why you are here and why we cannot speak to this Tom Marvolo Riddle?"

"Tom Marvolo Riddle has become what one would call a dark or evil wizard. He seeks to evade death..."

"... As we intended to do," the voice completed sombrely.

"No!" exclaimed Harry. "You sought to evade Death only by creating the three objects that had a magical power that transcended into the other world. Voldemort has tried to defeat Death by anchoring his soul to the mortal plane. He has split his soul by ritualistic murder and stored the pieces into what are called Horcruxes."

"The nerve of that beast!" growled the voice. "The discovery of the soul as something that is quasi-physical was an important discovery of our times. It is the single greatest power in the world. It is the very manifestation of the magic called life, of the magic that lends existence to beings. To split it is beyond mortal sin! It is the work of utmost Evil, as one inflicts the most terrible pain on oneself. If these Horcruxes still exist, kinsman, allow this Riddle to join his soul, and set him on the path of remorse. He deserves the most gruesome of punishments, and remorse alone will be pain that he won't be able to endure. Should you accept this request, we choose you to practise the magic of the House of Peverell."

"Tom Riddle killed my parents my Lord. I wish to punish him, but your method holds promise. I will honour your request, should that be possible."

The spirit dissolved immediately, and then at the bottom of the bowl, settled a silver ring with three golden dragons held a single emerald in place. Harry accepted this new ring, and felt a reaction bubbling up within him. It was more akin to the reaction he had had at the time in Longbottom Manor when he had transformed into a Griffin. Only this time, he rose into the air as he felt a fervent need to unleash all his power. The transformation was unbelievable. He was now a dragon, larger than twice the size of the Hungarian Horntail that he had battled. His black hide and the green eyes were the only two colours on him.

The four of the People summoned Ragnok and all the others in the bank for this event. They now beheld the Great Elder. Harry landed softly on his hind legs, and marvelled at his size, as well as the fact that he was totally in control of himself. Unlike the pup form where he often had canine instincts but could very easily override them, here he had the Dragon's- no, the Elder Dragon's instincts and the brain, memories and thoughts of his human self. From his line of sight, the People seemed so... _insignificantly_ small. There was this well arrayed Goblin that was bowing. Would he be tasty? But then there were too many. Snakes in an anthill were sometimes besieged by those same insignificant creatures. Harry's consciousness was warring with this Draconian entity that he had become as he desperately fought against the thought of finding the Goblins tasty.

He roared, and he roared and he roared, as another wave, the herald, unmistakably, of another binding being released rather... _violently._ It spanned farther than before and alerted the same people who had come to him as when he had become a griffin and one more. Of them, Granny Min, Neville and his grandmother were waiting in the lobby for his turn at being checked. They along with the People knew exactly what that raw wave of pure energy meant. They rushed in, only to stop in surprise momentarily, before realising that it was the new normal, as far as Harry went. In the distraction for the Dragon at the new arrivals, Harry won the tussle for control, and instinctively did what Granny Min had asked him to do when he had transformed before. He concentrated with all his might on being himself again, with all the clothes he had worn and all the things he had been carrying around. He was just about to push his magic into his human form when Granny Min called out, "Stop Harry!"

Harry looked at her in a questioning manner that looked extremely amusing on the great reptilian face. Granny Min, on the other hand, had a small conversation with the Lord Director, and then pointed her wand somewhere in front of Harry, conjuring a life-size dressing mirror for the dragon form. Harry understood the gesture and observed himself very, _very_ closely. With the method taught by Cassiopeia, he was judging the size, shape, features, colour, wings and just about everything else he could think of, of this form. He had made a mistake by letting his emotions run away wild at Neville's home, but this time, it was a forced change. Once he was happy with the images he had stored away in his mind, he went back to pushing his magic into his human form. He kept noting the changes as he transformed at an almost infinitesimally slow pace.

"You know, I must stop randomly transforming into one creature or another," Harry noted drolly, as he sat hunched up in his seat drinking up yet another goblet of water. As soon as he transformed, he had had to be held up as the People insisted on bowing to the Great Elder. The Lord Director had then given Griffinheart the leave to call him simply Ragnok, and had asked him to be his honorary adviser and eyes and ears in the mundane world. Then as a friend of Griffinheart, he had personally led Neville over to Scarbone, Bloodeye and Goretooth, the three chief Healers of the People who would be supervising Neville's healing.

"Well you should stop letting off that much magic!" replied Granny Min.

"I didn't know, I swear!" protested Harry. "I put that ring on and it just happened!"

"If I had a galleon for every time that James gave me that excuse, I would be insanely rich," muttered Minerva.

"But that was Dad giving the excuse, not me!" retorted Harry mulishly, and immediately regretted it as he saw her face fall. It was one of the many times when he had often wondered whether people blamed him for his parents' death and would rather have them instead of him. He knew that he himself did.

"I know. It is just that sometimes you behave or speak so much like James that it becomes difficult to not think of him- or of you as James' son. It's the same way when you behave like Lily," Granny Min sighed, as she slung an arm across his shoulders and drew him to her. Harry only smiled and nodded. Minerva was very expressive, truly.

"Lord Griffinheart, are you ready for the final ceremony?" asked Hightab as he reminded them of the Slytherin ring still waiting to be claimed.

"Yes Master Hightab, though I remember very well that I asked you to dispense with the 'Lord' thingy."

"You did indeed, but now that you have done what was long considered impossible and found the forms of both the Great Elder and the Great One, I find myself unable to take such a liberty."

The words sparked a memory of Luna's letter, and he decided to meet her at the first available chance. Nodding politely to Hightab, he just said, "I see." They proceeded to perform the ceremony for the Slytherin Headship, where he had to recount his encounters with Voldemort or any form of him in complete detail in Parseltongue, which was a relief, because that meant that he had to do so for _both_ the timelines. It drained him a lot, but the ring, which had appeared as a short silver snake with some words in Parsel script that he could read but not understand instead of stripes proceeded to coil itself around Harry's ring finger. It prompted Harry to take the same oath as before, in Parseltongue. It caused no dramatics whatsoever, and for that Harry was eternally thankful.

"Lord Griffinheart, we are extremely proud to have seen you come into your inheritances, and we are happy to announce that your emancipation will be completed without a hitch. Would you like to go through the wills and holdings now?"

"Thank you for your patience and assistance. I intend to wait for _certain events_ before I look into those matters, if you don't mind," he replied. The stress was caught by the Goldhaul and he nodded. It was a long standing plan, but protocol demanded that Harry be asked the question.

"Very well, when you intend to attend to those matters, we will forward any betrothal, business or legal contracts for your consideration."

"The other two are well and good, but betrothal contracts?" asked Harry weakly. He was going to kill Cassiopeia!

"Yes. Of course, you will have the choice of rejecting them, unless they are signed in blood. Not adhering to those would result in loss of magic."

Harry nodded dumbly, before asking the question that was bothering him. "What about the seats in the Wizengamot?"

Augusta answered him. "The new holders of Lordships and seats in the Wizengamot are always oath bound on one of four days within a year- the autumnal equinox, the winter solstice, the spring equinox and summer solstice. By law, the oath has to be taken within four events of the ascendance. Traditionally, light families take their oath on the summer solstice, neutral families on the equinoxes, and dark families on the winter solstice, though that is not the rule."

"I see," Harry said, before descending into silence. "The Autumnal Equinox, it will be, then, for the House of Potter."

"WHAT?" Augusta was very surprised, not to mention a little scared at that.

"Yes. We have to follow tradition, do we not? It is symbolic in my opinion, for what it is worth. The Equinox events cater to those who do not fall on the extreme ends of the political spectra. An oath on the Autumnal Equinox symbolises departure from the light, slightly, though not approaching the dark completely. That is what the new agenda of House Potter will be. House Potter, and also Gryffindor, Slytherin and Peverell, will not adhere to the light as long as Albus Dumbledore remains the standard bearer. My Houses will not be subjugated to the will of another."

"But is that not just a step away from Darkness?" asked Minerva.

"Tell me this, Granny. If suppose, hypothetically, I used some dark curses to revive and restore Aunt Alice and Uncle Frank to health, would that make me dark?"

Both Augusta and Minerva floundered as they tried to answer. "But the end will not be dark!"

"That's exactly my point. I see the world as gray. It may be a cynical world-view, probably, but for me, protecting my family and friends and destroying my enemies- rather, annihilating them- might require certain actions which while legal maybe unsavoury. I realised that when I stewed alone in my room, feeling guilty about Quirrel. After several days, I realised that between me destroying the willing sacrifice by Quirrel- for that is exactly what active possession meant- and a return of Voldemort, I would take the former any day. Does it make me feel guilty that I took a life, however inadvertently? Yes. Does it mean that I'll renounce my promise to myself that I'll protect all those near and dear to me at any cost to myself? No. I don't do third chances, as Snivellus will soon know, first hand. If some irritant needs to be exterminated, of course, for the Greater Good, I will. I don't see how I can adhere to either without straddling the fence. Maybe it's not normal for a person who is twelve years of age, nearly thirteen, but that is how it is."

The two elderly ladies nodded and frowned as they accepted the reasoning. Circumstances had made Harry the way he was. At least he had noble intentions, even if the road to hell was often paved with them.

"Now I do have one question. When I found out about being Lord...all of these, I looked up in the index of the House of Lords. Why is it that none of the 'Magical Lords' have a seat on the House of Lords of her Majesty, Elizabeth the Second, by the Grace of God of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland and of Her other Realms and Territories Queen, Head of the Commonwealth, Defender of the Faith?"

"Who is that?" asked Minerva curiously.

Harry stared at her incredulously. "Are you bloody serious?"

"Language!" admonished Augusta.

"I can answer that, My Lord Griffinheart," interrupted Goldhaul. "Around the time that magical Britain resisted slightly against Christianity, choosing instead to adopt the Pagan rituals and Druidic ways, this land chiefly was home to clans and tribes, among the humans. Those with magic knew the significance of the rituals and followed them. What I am going to tell you pertains chiefly to the human history recorded from the late fourth century to the late thirteenth century when the Wizengamot was constituted. Already several families were getting irritated with the constant fighting and the changes in the rulers, their natures and their policies. It was the reign of Hardicanute when several magicals across the kingdoms were killed. Several families got together, and even grudgingly let in the two darkest of families of that time."

Harry took the bait. "Which were those?"

"The Curtsmans...and the Potters," Goldhaul replied with a grin. At Harry's shocked look, he explained further. "You, Griffinheart, are not the first Potter who has aimed to change the dynamic of the House of Potter. You may have heard, and will hear that Potters were always one of the foremost light families. That is a lie. Potters have been well-known for having Heads of Houses who always worked towards furthering the interests of the House for survival. If that meant going against the edicts of the previous Lord because the times had changed, they did that. If that meant oscillating between light, dark and grey, they did that. When His majesty told you about your ancestor, he did not tell you **_about_** him. Caerwyn Potter was what you humans would have called an insidious Dark Lord. He moulded the British Society through blackmail, threats, information control, implications, character assassination and such. He was also a very intelligent person. He knew that physical destruction would do nothing. He was among the rare humans that understood economics, so much so that he challenged and duelled the then Account Manager to death. And he won. That was what got him anointed as a Garnarukro in the first place.

"There is also a long line of slight insanity – of a different kind compared to the Blacks – that runs among Potters. An Unspeakable Potter, who dabbled heavily in soul magics, declared a blood feud against a mass-murderer's family, created a Horcrux with the sole intention of understanding those vile things. He also came up with a way to reconnect the soul after the creation of an anchor. His works were obliterated by order of the next Lord of the House and the Ministry." Harry turned green at this. This was taking things beyond the pale. This was a crash course in his family's unfiltered history.

"So about the Potter History of the Middle ages," continued Goldhaul. "The then four hundred and fifty four pureblood families gathered all the magicals under an aegis and effectively shut themselves from the world. This part of history is roughly a century after Hogwarts was founded. The founders' families weren't happy with this and on general principle decried the inclusion of the two families. So they also gathered several clans from the highlands. But their greatest triumph came about when the next Lord of Potter made a none-too-subtle shift towards wand magic instead of the old druidic ways and sought to enrol his children into Hogwarts. They thought that they were now moulding a family towards what was considered to be the light. I would not be very surprised if it was family tradition to teach the Druidic Ways, the real magic of nature to the children under family magic for the Potters – something even Lord-elect James would have taught you. While I am not sure, I have long believed that it contributed to the Potters taking in two lines – the Peverells and Gryffindors, and not dying out in the main line.

"That Lord Potter, whose name I know not, proposed a gradual disintegration of the magicals from the muggle world for their own protection. This was particularly interesting for The Slytherin, because he had come to a similar conclusion. As such, it may be interesting to note that sometime down the way a Lady Potter was a Daughter of Slytherin from the main line. So you do carry the blood, but not enough to claim Headship directly with some other families also in the running. Now, however your claim is undisputed. Potters have intermittently been Beast Speakers, so they assimilated the gift of Parsel into the line. It is the gift of the line, along with a natural aptitude and affinity for magical, mundane, physical, psychological, financial or political warfare, raw power and sheer curiosity. It made up for not having the more visibly exotic gifts. For example, the Longbottoms have had expressed elementals – magicals who could find the element of their affinity easily – in their line. It was a very significant gift. Unfortunately, for their own protection, the gift has often been hidden." Goldhaul had no idea how prophetic his words would prove to be.

"So coming back to the matter of the disintegration from the muggles, the anger and frustration with the violence was rife. People with magic just wanted to be left alone to their own devices. So they broke away. That is not to say that they did not keep an eye out on the mundane world. The Norman Conquest on mundane Britain also brought along low-level magic users – the sort that those Malfoys have sprung from. They came in around the time that the Plantagenet king made a French wife around six hundred years ago. The chief reason for this was that the Magical bastion in England united and drove away any magicals that tried to come into Britain around that time. After three centuries, it ceased to matter. As such, ever since the parting, the Magicals have stayed together, however grudgingly. But now they needed something to protect their interests and family magic. So they copied the idea of Lordships from the mundane king. As the independence grew the need to have a structured governing platform was felt. So the Wizengamot was created roughly seven hundred years ago."

Goldhaul had long stepped out of his professor-mode before Harry could get a grip on himself and stopped gaping at his account manager. "How do you know all this? I thought that the Garnarukran did not bother with the non-magical world..."

"You disappoint me Griffinheart. We use knowledge to generate money. Do you think ignorance would pay any dividends? And as for your family history, given that I am four hundred and thirty two years old by the count of humans, and have spent three hundred and seventy eight of those as in-charge of the Potter accounts after my grandfather, and have known several Lords of the House of Potter, and called them friends personally, do you really expect me to not know even a bit of your history?"

"My word," said Harry, awestruck. "How'd the Gryffindor name come into the Potter name then?"

"The last true Lord Gryffindor – and by that I mean the last male born to the name of that patriarchal line had three daughters. As luck would have it Artorius the third, Heir of House Potter, Harfang the second of House Longbottom and Eldred of the clan of Redieron were the ones who married these daughters. At such time, the incumbent Lord Gryffindor created the ring you now wear. He got the ring you wield sculpted by the Nation's jewellers and placed the magic that acts as the guide. This was in 1368 by human reckoning. Eldred's sons wore the ring till the line died out in 1577. There were four Lord Redieron-Gryffindors over two centuries, the last dying at the tender age of twenty – a child by Garnarukran reckoning. They all died in wars. There was no Lord Gryffindor for the next three generations and two centuries. This broke the line of ascension, and the Line lost out on gaining the 'Ancient' part to their title. Around this time, both the Potter and Longbottom Houses had become firmly 'light'. As such in the last generation, both Lord-elect James and Lord-elect Francis could have laid claim. As allies and brothers-in-arms it would not have mattered. Again, your claim is indisputable. "

"Blimey!" exclaimed Harry softly. "You make the Potters sound slightly like the Malfoys – marrying well."

"What you have to understand is that the period was one where the life-mates were chosen by the parents and not by the people themselves. Powerful mates – physically and magically – were in... demand."

"You make it sound like a cattle business."

"It wasn't necessarily too different."

"Blimey!" muttered Harry softly. Of all the different things that he had expected of the day, none of them came close to the lesson in family History that he had had.

* * *

It was about two and a half hours later that Neville emerged from the medical investigation room, wearing a big smile, but looking extremely haggard, as he stumbled across to the seating and waiting area. "You won't believe it!" he said with a raspy voice. "Damn, I don't believe it myself! I was working on barely a tenth of my actual reserves!"

"Why would you think I won't believe it, Nev? I mean, you have to consider that it was I who got you to get an appointment here in the first place..."

Apparently, Neville had got a little cocky and a bit free with his nature instead of the perennial shyness that seemed to be his default state of being. "Yeth Mathther!" he said with a lisp and a bow. "I will fall level be indebted to you!"

Deciding to pay him back in kind, Harry replied in Parseltongue for good measure, followed by a low hissing in English, "Yes my minion! Let us go forth to total domination!Neville immediately assumed a sinister looking hunch with one shoulder set below the other. Wringing and rubbing his hands in the ypical villain's sidekick style, he hobbled out after Harry, much to the amusement of Professor McGonagall and Madam Longbottom.

Neville's powers it turned out were bound for his protection, in a sense. While it often seemed that elemental magic was very rare, in truth, it was only rare for magical people to actually recognise the element that they had the most affinity with. Neville was among the rare ones who had. His green thumb was an extension of that very power- he was an earth elemental, so to speak. Importantly, he had found this ability as a child. It was an extension of the theory that Cassiopeia had tutored Harry in with respect to the animagus magic. Too many witches and wizards were out of sync with their true selves. There wasn't much available literature to understand this, so he would have to learn through experimentation. Between them, Harry and Neville decided to scour every single book to understand spells and magics that harnessed the power of the earth. He also was able to perform a moderate level of Legillimency passively. Both were tremendous surprises for his Grandmother. She was really happy that Harry and Neville had become friends. It had brought about real changes in her Grandson, and if truth be told, she often wondered why she never took those steps herself. It really never should've needed prompting by a classmate of her grandson. It warmed her heart to see the confident new Neville that was emerging.

* * *

Luna was sitting on a Dirigible Plum tree in her orchard, when she felt the wave of magic from Harry hit her again. This time, it was much deeper, much more developed than it had ever seemed before. It didn't have the accents of emotion as she had predicted, and as she had felt when he had transformed into Firewing. It also seemed almost conscious, yet she had detected a hint of surprise.

That evening, she saw the white ghost of the night flying straight to her. "Hello Hedwig," she said dreamily, as the owl perched onto the post of her four-poster. She carried Harry's letter, something Luna was not remotely surprised to receive. Hedwig had been flying to her a lot lately, without Harry sending her a letter too. Both liked each others' company.

 _Luna,_

 _Thanks for writing to me about the Great One and the Great Elder. You were right. I did turn into both in that order. It was a bit- no, it was very scary. Luckily, both times Granny Min was with me and helped me. I actually wanted to show you the photographs that Neville captured of the Griffin. I was thinking that I could instead show you the forms in person. So well, I am giving you unrestricted access to my House. Oh yes, I also name you a Friend of the Houses of Potter, Slytherin, Gryffindor and Peverell. Bet you didn't see that one coming! I will send you a Patronus when Hedwig returns tomorrow morning. Listen to it carefully and memorise it. It is not something that can be put into a letter; CONSTANT VIGILANCE!_

 _As for the theory that I had about your creatures, yes, I truly was afraid that you'd be offended. People don't like it when their beliefs are challenged or people try to find something different related to them. Well, I'll just take the chance. I truly can't see most of the creatures, but then again, I can't see ambient magic either. But I know that Magic itself is somewhat (or entirely) sentient. I think that the creatures are a combined manifestation of magic and the nature of the people it affects. For example, you call Cho Chang a Nargle, because she bullies you. You sense the magic around her and in her interacting unkindly, maybe hatefully with the magic associated with you. In a way, we could say that you read people, and truly understand them. Then again, I may be totally wrong and the creatures may really exist. I don't know. I truly didn't mean to offend you, but I just put forward my theory._

 _As for the mundane parchment and quills; no the mundane are not cruel. Paper is not made from Moonbell cub hide. Waste wood, specially cultivated bamboo shoots, tree barks and such things are collected, crushed and turned into paper in special factories (places where machines produce something) called paper-mills. As for the pens; they are made of a special material called plastic. I don't suppose I will be able to explain it properly, unless I can show you some other things made of plastic. You would need some basic knowledge of mundane science._

 _May I come and visit you sometime? I have a present for you. I'll tell you more when I see you. I also gave one of the same to Neville. He liked it. I hope you like it too._

 _Harry_

Luna was not offended. She was on the other hand ecstatic. Harry had not dismissed her out of hand, but was actually trying to understand and find an explanation regarding the Nargles and Wrackspurts. He had also made her a Friend of his houses. That was a great honour. She was also relieved. The non-magical people did not use Moonbell cub skins for paper. The thing about the factory excited her a bit. She wanted to see one. She would tell Harry about it. Also there was this new thing called plastic. Luna was a Ravenclaw after all, and loved learning. As she read on, she squealed. Harry wanted to give her a present. Luna loved presents. She had to get Harry to meet her, at her house or at his, soon.

* * *

Hermione was in her illness induced stupor when the wave of magic hit her. In her already befuddled state, the unmistakable feeling of being overwhelmed by magic, by **_Harry's_** magic, startled her. Whatever else could have described Hermione, when it came to Harry, she was a certified worrywart. But with such a huge sign regarding Harry, almost like Voldemort wearing a huge fluorescent Neon Yellow dress with sparklers and Neon signs proclaiming, "I am coming for you, Potter!", Hermione was outright terrified. So she reacted the way all terrified people do. She screamed.

"HARRY! NO!"

Jean rushed into her room at her scream and proceeded to gather her in a light hug, before waking her. "Pumpkin, what is the matter? Why are you shouting for Harry? Is it because of that sudden gust of wind? What is it Hermione?" Mother and daughter were similar in another aspect: when they wanted to know something, they simply couldn't help asking questions.

Hermione, however, wasn't in any way able to answer her. She rasped out, "Mum, I can feel it. Harry is in danger. I want- no I _need_ to see him. Please mum, let me call him." Jean was apprehensive, but she couldn't find the perfect idea to calm her seemingly delirious daughter.

"Of course, dear, call him."

Unfortunately for Hermione, the Fidelius Charm had already been cast, meaning that she had forgotten everything related to Harry's residential conditions. It was, however, a peculiar thing, that familiars could always sense the needs of their bonded human (or pet as a certain owl would have thought) and also the needs of their most important people. Hedwig calmly swooped in and perched onto a table by Hermione's bedside.

"It is Hedwig!" Hermione squealed. "Thank you, dear old- sorry, dear bird!" (Hedwig had protested at the use of the word old.) "Please tell Harry to come meet me as soon as he can. I know he is in danger!" Hedwig let out her patented barking laughter at that. Hermione was however, not to be disabused of the notion, and she got her mother to write out their address on a piece of paper to send it off to Harry.

Hermione was really worried. She had never felt such an overwhelming necessity to meet anyone. With Harry though, the matter was different. She simply had to see him.


	19. Chapter 19

**Know the Friend**

That Tuesday, Harry was lounging in the sitting room of his new house, happily taking in the new smells, sights and sounds of the new house when Sirius' thoughts drifted into his consciousness. Fudge was going to undertake the inspection on Thursday then. It made him deliriously happy. He immediately summoned only Padfoot and sent him off with a message to the real Padfoot. As the ethereal Grim left, Hedwig soared in through the window and haughtily held out her leg for Harry to get Hermione's note. This surprised him. Hermione hadn't returned from France that early in the original timeline. Her illness however, brought forth the worrywart in Harry, one that at the time only would make an appearance for Sirius and Hermione. He wasn't yet sure who else he could trust. He walked down to the nearest public telephone booth from where he called the Granger residence.

"Hello? Is this the Granger residence?"

"Yes," answered Jean.

"Good afternoon, Ma'am. I am Harry Potter, a friend of Hermione's from school. I just received the note asking me to come over to your place. May I know what has happened to her?"

"It's a good thing that you called, Harry. Hermione's not been too well from sometime midway through our vacation. She has been unable to sleep properly, and has been waking up every once in a while screaming out your name."

Harry froze. Hermione was ill and was unable to sleep. She was also screaming his name out loud. Harry had far too much experience with nightmares to not know the signs. He slapped his forehead in self-deprecating exasperation.

"Dr. Granger, will it be alright if I visit her in an hour or so? Also will you or Hermione's father be home around that time?"

"I would rather that you come as early as you can. Why do you ask whether or not we will be at home? We want to meet a friend of Hermione's from her school; don't feel uncomfortable, Harry." While her words were meant to placate him, she was immediately suspicious of Harry's intent.

"Excellent!" responded Harry enthusiastically. "I wanted to invite you all over to my House too, but I have to do that personally due to the magic related to the protections around my house. Dr. Granger? Is Hermione averse to a dog or a cat? I intended to give her a birthday present, but I think the situation calls for the comfort such a creature would provide. Students are allowed pet cats at Hogwarts."

Jean was still apprehensive about this boy who was asking her if he could gift her daughter an animal. That was a sure way to get the attention of any girl who wasn't a mother yet. Who could really say no to an adorable pet?

"You may get her a cat. I don't know about a dog..."

"Don't worry about the dog. That's my little secret. I am sure you haven't seen much magic. I will leave that as a surprise for you. Thanks Dr. Granger. Goodbye!"

* * *

Leaving Dobby in charge of Marauders' Place, he took the Knight Bus to the Leaky Cauldron, where he went into the Magical Menagerie. He knew the perfect pet of course: Crookshanks. Ignoring all the other displays, he searched around for the orange half-kneazle and found him engaged in a hissing squabble with a snake in a tank. He approached the little terror carefully and stood to a side beside him. The notorious cat stared up at Harry carefully as if considering him. Harry decided to talk to Crookshanks in his own 'language'. With soft mewls, hisses and guttural growls, he started speaking to him.

"Hello, I am Harry. I have a friend who would like to be your human. Would you like to come with me?"

Crookshanks was a bit surprised and as with all kneazles, slightly suspicious. "Human called Harry. How do you speak kneazle or cat?"

"I can speak to all beings, Master Kneazle, though my friend can't."

"The name is Crookshanks, and I am a half-kneazle. Are you sure your friend will be good to me? I'll otherwise be a very bad creature."

"Her name is Hermione. She will be a good human to you. I promise you that."

"I will take your word for that, speaker. Let us go."

"Would you consent to being in a carrier for the journey? We will be going by the Knight Bus, and it might be scary for you."

"Just this once," spat Crookshanks.

"Yes, Master Crookshanks. I can turn into another beast, a grim pup. Please do not be suspicious of me for that. I intend to show that form to Hermione."

"We shall see. Now take me to my minion."

* * *

About thirty minutes later, Harry, carrying Crookshanks in a yellow carrier, was admitted by David into the Granger home. The first thing that struck Harry was the straight, limp black hair and grey eyes that framed a face which could have easily been the one on a slightly aristocratic, male Hermione. But that just wasn't it all. The hair and eyes were a patented male characteristic of the Black lineage. It startled Harry briefly. This was something that he _had_ to ask Mr Granger about.

"Good afternoon, Dr. Granger. I am Harry, Harry Potter. I am a friend of Hermione. I received her note this morning saying that she was ill."

"Ah yes, Harry, do come in. JEAN! Tell Hermione that her friend is here. Would you like something for your thirst, Harry?"

"No thank you, Dr. Granger."

A few moments later, Jean came into the room, to take a good look at the boy her daughter had described so much. "So you are Harry," she said, a disapproving touch in her voice that reminded Harry faintly of Petunia Dursley, whenever she compared anyone to Dudley. It made him want to retort scathingly, but he held his tongue. After all, compared to Hermione, there really weren't too many who could be considered to be better in any way.

"Yes, Dr. Granger. I hope Hermione is amenable to visitors right now?"

"Not all; she specifically asked only for you," replied Hermione's mother, clearly showing her incredulity at what she perceived as her daughter's illness induced delirium.

"Dr. Granger, Dr. Granger, do you mind a magical cat in your House?" Harry asked as he showed them Crookshanks.

"Well magical or not, we don't mind a cat very much, but will she be able to take care of it? It looks a bit... _squashed_ ," said Dr. Granger, clearly fishing around for words that wouldn't offend either their guest or the gift.

"Oh! That's because Crookshanks is a half-kneazle. He is a very smart one. He'll take care of Hermione, more than she will take care of him. Kneazles are very, _very_ suspicious creatures. Crookshanks will stave of anyone with less than honourable intentions towards Hermione," he told them, remembering Crookshanks' long running feud with Ron. "He tested me in a way before I was even allowed to touch him."

That earned him brownie points with the Grangers. Anyone who thought of a gift to help protect their darling daughter was good in their books. Jean's eyes, which were the very same as Hermione's, relaxed into a friendly expression that Harry had seen in his friend's eyes. "Then he is- Crookshanks did you say? - Crookshanks is very welcome."

"Thank you for your approval. Now as to my second question, do you mind dogs? Before you ask me, this dog is not vaccinated because he doesn't need to be; but is house-trained, won't bite Hermione, and is totally clean. He isn't too noisy either."

"Is he magical?"

"Yes, you could say that."

"May we see him first?"

"Of course, Dr. Granger; just wait a moment." He grinned at them very mischievously and then before their very eyes, transformed into the Pup. David and Jean shrieked out loud at this, before David burst out laughing as Jean only opened and shut her mouth, still in shock. Realising that this was a bit of overkill, Harry transformed back to his human self and apologised to his hosts.

"I am sorry, sir, ma'am. I didn't mean to frighten you. I only wanted to assure you that Hermione's pet dog wouldn't be dangerous," he said sheepishly.

"That's a nifty little trick you have got there, young Harry!"

Deciding that he would act like a twelve year old, he volunteered information enthusiastically. "Yes, thank you sir. I am an animagus. That is to say, I can turn into an animal at will. It is supposed to be very difficult, and is a common thesis and practical demonstration topic for those pursuing their Mastery in the subject called transfiguration. I believe that Professor McGonagall had come to introduce you to the magical world? She is an animagus too. She takes the form of a grey and white tabby cat. My dad was a stag, while my godfather would say that I am his pup. The only difference is the eyes. His are greyish silver- much like Dr. Granger's, while mine are green. My form is a magical animal: a Grim. It is considered a Death Omen, but is really anything but. I am just a lovable pup."

"Do you me-mean the black d-dog in cemeteries, the hound of Death- Grim?"

"Yes. But that's alright. It really isn't so much of the hound of death thing. It's just a myth."

"Is it common for witches and wizards to turn into animals?"

"No. People believe what they say everyone says. Apparently, it is a very difficult and physically taxing thing to do, or that such transformations are possible only when the need is great. That's false. I have mastered this form, and I have already managed two more. I can also turn into a Griffin and an Elder Dragon. It is just a question of willing your magic into an animal form, and having enough magical power to do so in the first place."

"These things really exist? Will you show us?"

"Griffins and Elder Dragons are really, _really_ rare. But yes they do exist. I wouldn't show you those forms here though. While I am still small physically in those forms compared to the full size I'll reach when I become an adult, they are still too big to be shown here. Besides, I have not mastered transforming back into my human form. That has the mortifying side-effect that I often lose my clothes during the transformation," he said in a very embarrassed tone. After the show of magic, David and Jean were relatively relaxed around Harry and smiled indulgently at his explanation.

"I take it Crookshanks isn't an animagus?"

"No sir. I bought him from the pet shop, and they have got detection wards around the place."

He let Crookshanks out of the carrier and the little tiger immediately streaked about the room, taking in the auspices of his new home. When he was satisfied, he trotted up to the Grangers and looked at them intently, before leaping up into Jean's lap and purring contentedly. Jean scratched him behind the ears on reflex, with a smile on her lips.

"May we go visit Hermione?"

With that Harry transformed into the Pup and trotted alongside David as they followed Jean and his Feline Highness Crookshanks up the stairs to Hermione's bedroom. Jean opened the door to her daughter's door, and was greeted by the sight of Hermione still in her sick stupor. At this point Harry transformed. He had forgotten about the Pepper-Up Potion he had brought along for her.

"'Mione, Drink this please."

"Harry, is it you?" she rasped in response. "I-I thought so-something h-had happened to you. I felt your magic this morning."

"Ah yes, you must have felt the magical pulse. I had two more bindings removed from my core."

"More... "

"Drink this first, my precious...s... s... s... s!" he ordered sibilantly, in his best Gollum imitation. David raised his eyebrows at the endearment, but said nothing. Hermione looked up at Harry weakly, and then drank up the proffered potion without any argument. The change in her was almost wondrous for her parents. Their daughter, who looked ill and extremely weak and pale, was now regaining colour quite fast and had somehow regained enough strength to sit up in the span of two minutes- two minutes!

"Just what did you give her, young man?" asked Jean, more out of wonder and incredulity than anger.

"That is the general purpose tonic of the magical world: Pepper-Up Potion. Dr. Granger, Hermione is magical, and therefore, when she gets really ill, her core is affected first. Non-magical medicines can only heal her so much. I may be wrong, but have you observed that Hermione was rarely ill before Hogwarts, and that when she did lose her health, it was a very severe bout of whatever happened to her? Perhaps she may have never had chicken-pox or the bout of tonsil related trouble most children go through?"

While Jean and David had been doting parents to Hermione and actively supported health consciousness and awareness among youngsters, it still felt very odd to listen to Hermione's health history from someone who was a virtual stranger to them, except for their daughter's letters. There was no denying the truth however.

"Yes. Now that you say it, the occurrences are a bit odd. Is this common for magical children?"

"I cannot honestly answer that question with respect to magical children from the purely magical households. They have, amusingly, diseases like dragon-pox. But I am pretty sure that the case was similar with me. I was rather... prone to er... accidents that meant my bones were continually being broken every now and then. Magic is a basal form of energy that is contained within a magical individual's body. It of course, can't be destroyed. When magical people get hurt or have some sort of illness, magic, let us say, aids the antibodies in purging the body of any foreign contaminant. So most likely, even mundane medicines could be treated as contaminants. You are dentists, so an example would be braces. Magical tooth corrections can simply not be performed by implants of any sort. The body will reject them, and painfully so."

Everyone cringed at the example. It only needed a vivid imagination to picture the painful rejection of braces.

"So you mean we can't really help Hermione? Her front teeth will remain as they are?"

"No, Dr. Granger. Our school Matron will simply use a reducing spell on her teeth when she wants to get them changed. It will be done in about five and half second. Oh, by the way, now that we are on the subject of health and potions, Hermione, I have one request. You know full well that there are love potions, compulsion and loyalty potions and the like. I am going to go to St. Mungo's to get a comprehensive flushing potion remedy and a preventive potion inoculation against such things. I would like you to take it too, that is, if you and your parents are amenable to it, of course. I didn't include it specifically in the Life Debt claim."

"What Life Debt claim?" David asked sharply.

When Harry told them about the scenario when he had invoked the life debts for Hermione and Draco, as also the wording of the debts, he was speared by a very piercing look from the elder Grangers. The way he had called the debt as he rightfully could, the Grangers couldn't help but dance a jig in relief internally. They had further information about the way Harry Potter worked. They could see the way he regarded their daughter. He was her best friend. He had rushed in twice to face extreme danger to help her. He was intensely interested in protecting her. He had used a form of magic that could have been put to all sorts of terrible uses- up to and including enslavement in some form- to force her to stay safe, even against her will. He was also forcing her to keep an open mind instead of being a blindly faithful person. Last but not the least, he had ensured a nice little nest egg for her. Thirty five million, four hundred and ninety six thousand pounds was no pittance. It also brought down Jean's reluctance regarding Harry drastically. She had a question however.

"Do you think that such a preventive dosage is necessary?" asked Jean, as Harry brought up the second biggest topic that she feared.

Harry sighed wearily. "Dr. Granger, I am perhaps not the best judge of that. I am predisposed towards being cynically mistrustful about everybody. I may be overstepping my bounds, but my Aunt and Uncle gave my cousin the Talk this summer. I believe you would be doing the same for Hermione?"

David coughed to hide a snort of laughter, while Jean spluttered incoherently for a moment. Hermione blushed prettily.

"In the magical world, such potions as I told you about, cause a long-term effect on the person and alter their personality. I am going to be a bit straightforward here, but there are lust potions also. The inoculation will guard her against any such attack. As far as I am concerned, it is always better to be safe than to be sorry. Don't you agree? In fact, I would go so far as to advice her to do the same thing I do. Cast detection spells over everything before use. You never know who is a friend and who is a foe. Books, gifts, food and drink, clothes-everything should be checked, ideally. I gave you the Pepper-up potion, Hermione, but I could as well have been an impostor, and that could as well have been a poison or a mind-controlling potion of some sort. Always ask a security question. Have cricket bat at the ready. That way you will be spared the inconvenience of restraining your visitors i they don't come attacking."

"Is this not a rather cynical view?"

In response, Harry used the undetectable glamour spell Cassiopeia had taught him to turn into a likeness of Mad-Eye Moody, complete with the wooden foot, revolving eye and destroyed nose. Hermione and her mother shrieked in fright while David stiffened and gasped with a frown. With the twisted mouth of Mad-Eye, Harry spoke, "This is an image of Mad-Eye Moody. He is the preacher of the extremely paranoid 'CONSTANT VIGILANCE!' gospel. He is also my role model. He is an ex-Auror who has faced the very worst of combat and wartimes. I haven't reached his level of cynicism- **_yet_**. So you can see what I am aiming for, and why I am that cynical, as you said."

Jean understood what Harry was trying to point out. As non-magical people, they had no way to protect Hermione from such an attack, but there was a magical, legal way that Harry had suggested and it made sense. She liked Harry better with each passing minute, and had got past her initial apprehensions. "I can hardly fault you for that. That said, though, I would prefer it if you did not have to become like him at all. I am sure Hermione would object to that very strongly, especially losing limbs and if it changed your looks so terribly..."

Hermione who had been quiet for all this while, as her parents monopolised Harry's attention, now interrupted with a whine and a blush, "Mum, Dad, may I speak to Harry now? He is after all, my guest. I need to give him a little paddling."

Laughing, Jean replied, "Yes dear. We will just go, won't we David? Here, Harry brought along this little tyke as a present for you." She carefully settled Crookshanks onto Hermione's bed, whereupon he immediately sauntered up to the girl, sniffed and then licked her hand. Hermione squealed in delight as she hugged the monster to herself. Harry thought Crookshanks looked disgruntled, but then again, the orange monster did have a squashed face.

"His name is Crookshanks," Harry supplied helpfully, nodding covertly to the elder Grangers. "And I'd rather that your parents remained here. You are one scary person when you get angry."

"...As I should be. Three weeks of summer have passed. No letter, no phone call from you, what exactly was I to think when I felt that big, scary pulse of magic that I knew originated from you?"

"How did you know? And how was I to know that you'd return from France early?"

"Let me have you know, Harry, that I can feel your magic differently. I have been ever since we met."

Harry filed _that_ piece of information for a conversation with Cassiopeia. "Oh."

"Yes. Oh. You, Harry Potter, have been doing all sorts of odd things since the end of last term..."

"Is that why you have been having nightmares?"

That brought Hermione up short. "H-How did you know?"

"Hermione, you are talking to a certified expert in nightmares. You weren't alone. I have been having nightmares too. I keep dreaming that you are petrified and you don't wake up at all." Harry looked haunted as he said it, a look with such depth of anguish that simply couldn't be faked. He lately had been lax with his Occlumency, and had been having nightmares about Bellatrix torturing Hermione, of Dolohov cursing her in the Department of Mysteries. It didn't go unnoticed by any of the three Grangers. Harry, unbeknownst to him, had the parental seal of approval, at least as a friend. Harry got off his chair and sat beside her and hugged her. There was no way he was going to allow anyone to hurt her.

"I have been having such dreams too," replied Hermione in a small voice. "Riddle keeps me petrified and makes me watch as he kills you, or Dumbledore kills you..." She quite forgot that her parents were still around.

"Why would your Headmaster want to kill Harry?" asked David heatedly.

"I don't suppose he wants that now, Dr. Granger. In his defence, it was necessary. We are working to prevent a relapse of a magical civil war, where people like my mum and Hermione- the mundane born, are pitted against a pureblood faction by the same Dark Lord Tom Riddle also called Voldemort..."

"The same bloke you defeated?"

"He isn't dead. Necromancy is not as much a myth as we would like it to be. Think of the One Ring. Sauron made just one. Voldemort intended to make six but unintentionally made one more. It was in my scar, which was why Dumbledore thought I'd need to be... disposed of." Jean gripped David's hand reflexively as she heard this.

"What do you mean?" asked David in a harsh whisper.

Harry turned to Hermione. "I think you should tell this to them. For one, it will tell them what your nightmares really were. For another, it will help you heal. I find that talking to someone- or in my case, something- helps."

Hermione looked at him with a very beaten expression, but Harry only looked at her resolutely. She slowly started out, aided and encouraged by Harry. She stopped several times to let out a few tears, but Harry kept prompting her. When she was finally done, she crawled up to her father and with a cry of "Daddy!" flung her arms around his neck, sobbing her heart out like a five year-old instead of a witch who would soon turn fourteen. Harry rubbed his eyes absently. He also felt slightly jealous. He would never get to experience that.

"What drove you to do such a thing you idiot boy?" snarled Jean. "Can't you see how much you scared her?"

"Yes I scared her, Dr. Granger, but I did what was necessary. Hermione is the one person alive that I care about more than anyone else. Do you honestly think I would try for self-preservation or try not to scare her if sometime in the future her life could be the cost? Do you think I would be bothered to worry about scaring her when I was concerned with removing a threat to her, even if the threat could've been me? It was not my intention to _make her watch._ I just wanted to see her one last time if I had snuffed it after that!"

Jean was shocked into silence by Harry's vehemence and venom. "You did it for her?" she asked incredulously.

"Of course I did," retorted Harry. "I even named her as the primary beneficiary in my will." At the odd looks he got at that statement, he had to explain. "Dr. Granger, you must understand that I haven't had a family for the longest time. My godfather can't live with me yet. My friends and their families are probably the closest to my own family that I'll ever have. What I did was something I would have only done for very few people. Hermione, my godfather, my mother's godchildren, one of whom is my classmate; these are the only people I trust and care for beyond reason. I would do anything for them, because they matter to me."

There was a long uncomfortable silence as the Grangers stared uncertainly at Harry. Finally, David nodded at the boy, and clapped him on his shoulder and said, "You're always welcome here, son" as he started to leave. Jean looked at Harry with a guarded expression before she broke into a genuine smile. As they were both almost at the door, Harry called out.

"Sir, Ma'am, wait. The Marauders' Place can be found at #2, 4, 6 Privet Drive, Little Whinging- Surrey. I don't have a telephone connection yet. I would appreciate it if you could all come visit me, preferably on Saturday; that way I can key you into the wards. We have a weekly updating."

"Thank you for inviting us. I am sure Hermione could have remembered where you lived."

"No Dr. Granger. There was a reason why Hermione or anyone else had forgotten where I live. You see, I did not get along er... too well with my relatives. They didn't want me, and I didn't want them. So we parted, and I bought that house and the two houses on either side with the money from the basilisk. Gringotts arranged the purchase and warding - that is, the protections. One of the charms cast was the Fidelius Charm. Unless I, the secret-keeper, tell the whereabouts, people can't know. Also you can't find it using a map; it is unplottable. Moreover, every time anyone passes through the wards, any tracking or detection, or any sort of mind control or compulsion charms are all removed from their persons."

"Magic I suppose," was all David said, grinning wryly as he left.

Hermione started her onslaught of questions as soon as they were alone, something Harry was dreading tremendously. "So," she said imperiously. Harry had the tremendous urge to ask "so what?" but bit that back. "I take it you have had a busy three weeks?"

"Yes Hermione."

"I would like to know what you have been getting up to. But before that," she got up and kissed Harry on both cheeks, making him blush a deep crimson.

"What was that for?" Harry asked with slightly glazed over eyes. He started babbling. "Not that I minded it. I didn't mind it all. I absolutely liked it, and would like to be thanked like that every day, but..."

Hermione giggled at that. "We did not speak about this at school, but I never thanked you for keeping me company while I was petrified. I could understand you, you know? I kept looking forward to your daily visit, when you would tell me about the day, about the lessons and everything else. It kept me sane. That was my thank you."

"Well, I didn't know what to do when you were petrified. I can't describe it; everything felt incomplete, like something was missing," Harry replied uneasily, running a nervous hand through his hair.

"Oh Harry!" Hermione squealed, hugging Harry again as if he was some giant teddy bear. They stayed like that for some time, much to David's irritation. Finally Hermione broke the silence. "Don't think this gets you off the hook, Potter. What have you been getting up to?"

"Oh, I have been dabbling in lots of things. First and foremost, I completed my homework in that very week. The first draft is ready for each subject, and also consistent with whatever has been taught till the second year. Now I intend to look up more things to make my essays better. Except History of Magic of course; I only wrote the first draft and that will be it. It doesn't mean anything at all."

"You are done with your homework?" Hermione asked, unable to hide her surprise.

"Of course I did. Why did you think I wouldn't?"

"It-It's just that you never seemed to be as interested in studies before..." Hermione replied, slightly abashed.

"And have I shown no evidence to the contrary since you were cured of petrifaction?"

Hermione had the good grace to blush and look away.

"It's alright, my precious. Though I wouldn't mind your apology to me, the way you thanked me!" Harry added a wink with that one as Hermione blushed further at his rather blatant flirting and swatted his arm. "Do you want to hear my plans? You might as well get a good laugh out of the endeavour..."

Hermione snorted and teased, "Ooh, big words!"

"You rubbed off on me, my dearest," Harry returned, only for Hermione to gape at him like a fish. It was then that Harry realised that what he had said could be construed in another way. Both turned red in embarrassment.

Hermione made some inarticulate coughing noises, before managing to blurt out, "You were telling me about your plans..."

"Yes, er...Anyway, after completing my homework, I took stock of all that I had been up to. I realised that I am wasting my time in the magical world. As you said last year, witches and wizards don't have an ounce of logic. They have no aptitude for innovation and change either. So with Granny Min's help I went through a complete compendium of the subjects taught at Hogwarts only to realise that it is awfully short of anything useful, if the world is to keep pace with the mundane world. So I applied for simultaneous examinations of the GCSE. I intend to pursue a degree in either electrical or mechanical engineering, following with my NEWTs. That combined with Mastery in either Arithmancy, Runes or DADA, will help me set up the technomancy firm. Now, potions and history of magic will not help me to do that whatsoever: one person can't realistically pursue all major engineering disciplines. So I am going to attempt my OWLs in those two subjects this year or at the end of next year. I am no longer going to learn Potions from Snape. He is a death eater- one of Voldemort's supporters. It was necessary to find a private tutor for Potions, as is allowed at Hogwarts. Once I am done with that, it frees me up fast, and only leaves Transfiguration, Charms, CoMC, Arithmancy and Ancient Runes till fifth year. With History being blatantly useless beyond the OWLs, I can continue Potions normally for NEWTs. At the same time, I can continue my non-magical studies."

Hermione stared at Harry with her mouth wide open. She herself had plans to pursue a muggle degree too, but even she hadn't planned it in such depth. This was certainly an altogether changed, new, improved Harry. She also had a fleeting moment where she wondered what it would be like to attend University with Harry. She genuinely liked the idea of Harry being with her in her life at every juncture that she could imagine. She was shaken out of her stupor by Harry, literally shaking her.

"Hermione, close your mouth, lest you catch flies," he said with a grin.

"When did you get it all planned? Surely not in three weeks?"

"No; about three hours after I had analysed and compared everything I knew about both the worlds."

"Did anyone tell you that you are slightly insane?"

"Don't worry. Sanity is grossly overrated," he replied lightly.

Deciding to not tread into what was very odd territory even for Harry, Hermione changed the subject. "So what's it with the house things?"

"Oh, that. Like I said, I bought my Aunt and Uncle's house. I also bought the two on either side. Now I can live under the old man's orders and yet not follow them..." Harry told her grinning very much in the way that Sirius and Remus had seen James grin.

"YOU DID WHAT?" shrieked Hermione, making Harry cringe. "You stupid boy, there were protections on your home, Dumbledore had told you to go there for your safety! How could..."

"SHUT UP HERMIONE!" growled Harry harshly. "Firstly, remember the Life Debt. Question authority; don't just accept everything that those in power say. And anyway, Dumbledore doesn't **_own_** me. He can't tell me what to do, or where to live or whatever. Don't tell me anything about my safety at that place, which wasn't my home with those... _things_ I had to call relatives. Did you know that for only ten thousand pounds, they gave over my rights to the purchaser, who was unknown to them? Did you know that as they left, they told me they were happy to finally be rid of a freak like me? Did you know that Chief Bones is going to-" Harry stopped abruptly. He didn't want Hermione to know _that_.

Hermione was by now white as a sheet. Harry was never that crude with her. He had asked her to shut up! Just as her indignation was taking hold, the rest of the things that he had said started permeating into her brain. Those people had literally sold Harry? They were happy to get rid of Harry? They called Harry a freak? Hermione was now doubly indignant, but that was all now on the behalf of Harry. Then she realised that Harry had stopped midway through telling her about something about these relatives that Chief Bones was involved with.

"Harry? What is Chief Bones going to do? Why is she involved?" Hermione asked tentatively.

"I-It is no-nothing, 'Mione. Just forget I ever said that," replied Harry in dismay, not meeting her eyes.

Hermione grabbed Harry's hand and forced him to look at her. "Harry? Am I your friend?" she asked sweetly.

"What a daft question was that? Of course, you are! You are my best friend in the world!" Harry declared.

Hermione beamed. "Then will you not tell me?"

Harry sighed. "Hermione I am not _allowed,_ legally, to speak it out, yet," he lied. "Anyway, I am quite sure you'll feel disgusted," he added in an undertone.

"Oh. I just thought that Dumbledore had placed protections and you'd be safer. I mean, he does know best..." she huffed, but was cut short by Harry's disbelieving snort of laughter.

"Hermione, why don't we change the subject? I am pretty sure that I don't want to talk about Dumbledore and you are most likely to not like what I say. We both know he wanted- no, **_needed_** me dead. How does that exactly help keep me safe? You are ill, and I don't want to have a heated discussion as I am sure it will boil down to, with you."

Hermione was not at all happy, but relented. She noted something else. Harry's language had changed. It was relatively refined and his speech was eloquent and elaborate compared to what she had been accustomed to. "So what else have you been up to? Any more secrets that you want to hide from me? Either legally, or because you'd rather not tell me?"

"Hermione, please; you know that I have hidden most of my life before Hogwarts from you all. Ron knows only because he had to come and help me escape from the prison my room had become. Do you think so less of me in that I think so less of you that I wouldn't trust you with my secrets? I wouldn't have told anyone else either, but Granny Min and Chief Bones saw some things and practically forced me to show them my... memories. I am just not comfortable discussing it," he told her heatedly but nervously.

Hermione could hear the fear that Harry could never really hide from her even through the anger. And as far as she knew, Harry was **_never_** afraid of anything. To see that expression in his voice made her blood boil. What had those people done to her Harry to make him fear them? She decided to tactfully change the subject and keep it for later perusal.

"Well at least tell me the secrets you can tell me," she whined. Harry was amused. This was a side of Hermione that he had never ever seen.

"As if I could deny you that," he said with a fond smile. "You know that massive pulse of my magic that you felt this morning? Well it has to do with two of my secrets. Both are good, I want you to choose the secret about a dog or about rings."

"I want the secret about Dog first!" exclaimed Hermione.

Harry smiled and complied immediately. He turned into Pup, and then jumped onto Hermione's bed and proceeded to cover her with slobber. Hermione first squealed at the Pup, before trying unsuccessfully to fend off his tenacious and enthusiastic tongue-attack. "Yuck! Get off me, you big slobbering monster!" she shouted, but kept laughing as Harry refused to stop.

Finally when the moment of fun was done, she asked Harry, "When?"

"After you were petrified and before you were revived. People were targeting me, so I turned into a Grim. That is one scary animal to encounter," he said with a wry smile and immediately regretted it. Hermione's anger showed on her face when he told her about being targeted. He hurried on to complete his piece. "The pulse this morning was similar to the one in Dumbledore's office. The pulse was the release of yet another core binding, as I told you. Now I have none."

"But you have been working at near normal power levels..."

"Yes, I have. All to prevent Mouldy-shorts from taking possession of me," Harry scoffed as Hermione seethed.

"How he could do something so inhuman is beyond me!" she growled.

"That's Dumbledore for you, Mione. He thinks he knows best. That's enough about him, though. I have no intention of souring my mood and yours by even thinking about him."

"That's true," she replied pensively. She stared out of her window, watching a bird tittering on a branch, before asking, "So what are you planning for the rest of the summer?"

"I am going to help Neville become an animagus. I am now trying for more. I managed one partially. It's a magical animal. But I won't tell you which. Let that be a surprise. You could join us if you wish," he offered nonchalantly.

Hermione made a 'squee' sound of delight before tackling Harry once more in a bear hug. "Only you could have multiple as well as magical forms!"

"That's a pair of myths, but we won't go into that now," replied Harry, hugging her back. "As for the rings, I took up the Head of House Ring for the Ancient and Most Noble House of Potter, the Ancient and Noble House of Peverell, the Noble House of Gryffindor and- don't be surprised, the Noble House of Slytherin." Harry waited for Hermione's reaction for some time, but she only stared at him dumbfounded.

"Er, Hermione? React please?" When she didn't respond, Harry had to resort to shaking her awake again. "Is anyone there? Woman, have you no shame? Why do you keep spacing out like that?"

"Four Houses- you are the Head of four Houses? You are Heir to both Gryffindor _and_ Slytherin?" was all she could ask.

"Yes. I ascended to the headships of Gryffindor, Potter and Peverell by heredity. Voldemort is the last blood heir of Slytherin. By rules of conquest, he engaged me thrice and with my scar, I engaged him once. My mum defeated him the first time, but as she died and I lived, it passed on to me. Then by defeating him once last year, and twice this year, I won the rights to the Noble House of Slytherin by conquest. I will now complete Slytherin's true work. Did you know that he was no blood-snob? His mum was mundane born as was his wife. He was actually working on a scientific research into the power of the offspring of powerful witches and wizards. Gryffindor and he never fought. They were in fact, brothers in all but blood. They knew the persecution that magical children born to the mundane suffered from. They just wanted to protect them all."

"Will you stop giving me shocks anymore? I don't think I can take it. Salazar Slytherin was nothing like history depicted? The books lied? THIS IS AN OUTRAGE!" she shrieked. "Then you are the head of Gryffindor too!"

"Oh yes. That is a story by itself. The Gryffindor name is very much related to the Potters, Longbottoms and the now extinct clan of Redieron, but the ring has a mind of its own. It doesn't choose everyone. Apparently, fighting a basilisk was an act of valour. So I was chosen. Seven consecutive Potters until my Great-grandfather were not chosen. My Grandfather was the last Lord Potter-Gryffindor. Dad died before he could take up the mantle."

"Harry, that's all well and good, but do you understand what it means? I have read the ascension and line continuation laws. You are the Head of three Houses, with Gryffindor an associated name. You, er, will have to take three wives, one for each House; probably one for Gryffindor too." Hermione's stomach clenched inexplicably and unexpectedly at that. She somehow hated Harry having three wives, and tried to convince herself that it was only because she hated the idea of polygamy.

It was a big consolation for her to see Harry's reaction, which in other circumstances might have been very comical. His eyes bugged slightly, and then yelling "Woe is upon me!" as he rushed out of the room, never noticing David and Jean lurking just out of the door listening to their conversation unabashedly.

David and Jean were startled by that, but were even more surprised by Hermione walking out of her room in her nightclothes and dressing gown. She wasn't _that_ _healthy_ that morning. "What exactly happened to Harry?" David asked with both curiosity and a bit of fear at the boy's panicked screaming.

"He became a Lord of two Most Noble Houses, one Ancient and Noble House, and of an Ancient and Most Noble House. By magical Laws, he has to take a wife for each. Before you ask, yes, the magical world is so backward that it allows polygamy. What you saw was his reaction to me telling him that. I believe we have to go find him."

David and Jean smiled at that. Their opinion of Harry had risen very high. There wouldn't be many teenage boys who would have that reaction to being told that they would have multiple wives. They followed their daughter down the stairs to the sitting room where they saw a quivering and shivering black pup propped against the side of the couch. Hermione, taking pity on him, quietly shepherded him onto the couch beside her and proceeded to stroke both her pet cat and the pup on their backs. While Crookshanks purred, Harry seemed to relax under her ministrations. When he finally stopped shaking, Hermione asked, "Do you want to talk?" She waited for some more time as Harry instead of answering, laid his head on her hand, before transforming.

"'Mione I swear I didn't know. I knew I had to take up the Headships, but I swear I didn't know about the one wife for each house thing."

He breathed heavily to calm his nerves, before resuming. "I was thinking right now about the matter while I was Pup. I don't think it is really a one wife for each House rule, as much as it is a one individual heir for each House. The one wife for each House thing may be to ensure that the four Houses are not too closely related, in case very far off descendents do end up marrying or something. I just remembered something. There is a ritual called 'blood adoption'. Neville and I have promised each other that we will be the godfathers to each others' children. I'll blood adopt all of my godsons and pass on the houses to them. I am not sure whether this will be accepted, but I think it still is a probable solution. I simply won't marry more than one witch, a witch whom I'll love with all my heart and soul, unless there is absolutely nothing I can do about it," he ended stubbornly, crossing his arms over his chest. It caused Hermione to giggle, both at his antics and also in relief.

Jean asked slyly, "So have you decided which witch that is?"

Harry furtively glanced towards Hermione (an action that David caught, making him frown) and answered, "I am yet to turn thirteen, Dr. Granger," with a blush.

"But you must have some idea, wouldn't you?"

"Well she'll be like my mum in a way. My mum was the cleverest witch of my generation. As such all Lady Potters have been described by four words: beautiful, brainy, bookish and bashful. And they were all older than the Lord Potters, by a time span ranging from a month to five years. My grandma was a Slytherin from a family that was almost pathologically inclined towards blood purity though she wasn't. In fact, she became a mother for my own mum when my maternal grandparents died in a car crash. My mother in turn was like Hermione, right down to her temper, apparently. My great-grandmother was a half-blood like me- technically three quarter blood. It has been like that for as long as the family history has been documented. It's almost as if they are all the same women in different bodies, under different names. I've only the traditions of my family left to me. I see no reason to break them. So whenever the time comes, I'll be following the Potter tradition. But that is a long way off. I want to complete my education at Hogwarts, as well as pursue an engineering degree in electrical or mechanical streams. The magical world is nice and all, but they have eons to catch up on the mundane world. I have an interest in enchanting and technomancy- basically mixing magic and engineering."

"I am... impressed. You seem to have ambitions, and proper ones at that."

"As Lord Slytherin, it is a prerequisite Ma'am."

"You know, we were really not sure about you, initially. But I think we have had enough of formality. Call me Jean, and call him David."

"Thank you Dr. Granger, but please pardon me. I am not comfortable to use the names of my Elders just as yet," he replied to appreciative smiles.

"There is one more thing, Harry. I am not sure whether Hermione told you, but after she told me all that had happened during the year I made a mistaken assumption that you could have had a hand in those attacks. Now that I know you, I am quite sure you didn't. I am sorry." Jean said it very fast, as though fearing Harry would attack her for her belief.

"Oh. I see," replied Harry coldly, causing Hermione and David to eye him warily, even as Jean flinched. In the silence that followed, the room's ambient temperature actually dipped by quite a few degrees Celsius. As it kept on getting colder, Hermione inched towards Harry, before ending up almost snuggling into his side. Finally she realised that Harry was acting like a magical compressor, and snarled, "Harry stop it. I am feeling cold!"

"Huh?" answered Harry eloquently.

"You are angry with mum, making you release large amounts of magic which is turning the room colder. Get a grip on yourself!"

Harry realised she was right. He slowly performed a spot of Occlumency, releasing the effects of his magic on the room. He also realised that he was not going to put things like that aside for anyone. "I am sorry, Hermione. I apologise to you too, Dr. Granger; Dr. Granger. I will not lie and say that it's alright, because I did feel hurt. I can say, though, that I understand. For parents, seeing their child being hurt must be the greatest nightmare, and I must understand that. After all, my parents sacrificed their lives to save mine. Perhaps I should describe the whole year in as few sentences as I can, from my point of view. You are not the first person who has jumped to conclusions about me without knowing me at all. The sole reason for me to kill that basilisk was that she hurt Hermione. She **_dared_** attack her," he growled. "She dared attack her, and thereby signed her own death warrant. I simply wouldn't have killed her otherwise. I would have tried to keep her alive, not only as a veritable source of skin to use as armour, but also simply because she had a life of her own. I would have shepherded her away from endangering the students, because Isaiah was placed there by Salazar to protect the students. His legacy called her the mother protector of Hogwarts. Tom Riddle corrupted her, and it would have driven her mad. I could have controlled her and kept her sane. But I doubt it would have been for long. **She hurt Hermione** ," he reiterated. "I appreciate the fact that you could re-evaluate your opinion about me, and that you apologised even though there was no need to- I wouldn't have ever known if you hadn't mentioned it to me. So, thank you for that, Dr. Granger."

Hermione was relieved to say the least. She also felt very _impressed_ by the way Harry had handled the matter after getting a grip on his anger. David had a look of understanding, before he shot a smug look to Jean, who wore an accepting smile. There was a short bout of silence that Harry broke by changing the subject.

"So, may I have the honour of your visit to my humble home on a weekend during our vacations? As the home-owner, I have to be the one to authorise entry," he informed in his best nobleman's voice.

"Yes, of course, Harry. Thank you for inviting us," David replied genially.

"Please, Dr. Granger, all the resources and luxuries would have no value unless there were people I love and care for there with me to share those things with. I will look forward to your visit. Do get well soon, Hermione, my precious," he added softly. "If you recuperate well, Neville and I may have a little surprise for you; either at my home or at Longbottom Manor. Oh wait; let me get this straight before I forget. I, Harry, son of James, Head of the Noble Houses of Gryffindor and Slytherin, the Ancient and Noble House of Peverell and the Ancient and Most Noble House of Potter, hereby name David..."

"Charles," supplied David.

"...David Charles Granger, his wife, Jean..."

"Emily."

"...Jean Emily Granger and their daughter, Hermione Jean Granger as Protectorate of the four Houses; and hereby also decree that any slight against their honour will be considered a slight against my Houses. Do you accept?"

"Wait a minute, young man," said David. "What does being your Protectorates mean? Do you own us in some way?"

"What? Merlin, no! I suppose you know that magical Britain is currently experiencing a period of calm. What you probably don't know is that this calm is tenuous, at best. Tom Riddle, aka, Voldemort will return, sooner or later, and that is chiefly because the current magical government is too rife with petty politics and corruption to actually do something constructive to sort out that problem. Whenever he does return, he will target those not born to parents with a long magical ancestry. People like Hermione and I will be on that list. However, by ascending to the Headships - note, I said Headships and _not_ Lordships in the mundane manner of heraldry - I automatically become elevated to a rank of the level higher than almost all the so-called purebloods. As my Protectorates, Hermione will gain the same status as a member of my House, while you will have the status of Squibs. That way, any slight, any danger to Hermione or you, will be impugning the honour of my Houses, and I can retaliate with everything up to and including capital punishment. The only rider is that in formal settings, you will have to call me 'My Lord'. I am sorry that it will be slightly demeaning, but as of now, that is the best protection I can provide, given that I am not an adult by age yet. If that was the case, I would have been able to name her a daughter of my House. It would be a bit...awkward, though. I don't like it much, but it keeps Hermione safe in a place you can't see."

David, Jean and even Hermione stared at him blankly for a long time. Finally the Granger parents asked, "I can understand what you are pointing at, but tell me this: Why would we keep Hermione in such an archaic world? We could remove her for her safety and be shut of it forever! Then this Voldemort person would have no reason to come after her!"

Harry looked back at them, and then laughed. It was clear to all that it was mirthless, sardonic laughter. "I am sorry, Dr. Granger, but while I would probably agree with you, were I in your place, it is nonetheless an idea without the sound backing of facts. I'll answer your questions backwards. First of all, it won't make Voldemort ignore you. At best, you'll just be muggles who he may or may not want to toy with. At worst you'll be ousted as the parents of a witch who withdrew her from that world. And then he will toy with you all for... entertainment. You'd be shut of that world forever, but that would mean Hermione, and by extension you both, would have your memories erased and you'll forget anything like magic existed. She'll forget her friends, her school, everything."

"I'll forget you - you all?" asked Hermione in a voice that made it seem as if she was considering the matter objectively. Harry grimaced. His grim picture had made Hermione mull over the idea of leaving.

"Yes," replied Harry with gritted teeth. "But that is not the worst part. You'll have your magic bound. Now, magic is a form of energy, which as you know, can't be created or destroyed. Now your magical energy will most likely be converted into life energy. Magicals normally live to an age beyond 150. With your magic bound, you could easily live past 300, as magic will feed your life energy till it entirely dissipates. The worst part is that you will outlive _all_ your loved ones."

There was a rather long, protracted silence. Then Jean burst out, "Magic is a curse! It is a bane of our very existence!"

"Dr. Granger, it is not as bad as it seems. The thing is that I have recently been in contact with people who can actually handle the situation. I knew when I started speaking that I was probably going to regret it, but now I'll let you in on some part of what is effectively a state secret. I am, politically, one of the most powerful people, _now_. For too long, I have been accused of using my fame and what-not. Now I am actually going to do that to cut the legs from under the insurgency. Things **won't** get out of hand. Voldemort will return, but he will not have the real power he once wielded."

"How confident are you that this will work?"

"I am confident I have a good plan, but then again, most plans never survive the first encounter with the enemy. All the same, things won't be as bad as they seem to be. And I don't know how much of a relief this is, but let me assure you that Hermione is the wisest, cleverest and if not **_the_** strongest, she is at least one of the strongest witches of her generation. She is no weakling. She can take care of herself if things come to pass where for some reason I can't reach or help you." Hermione smiled and also blushed a little at that praise. "But that doesn't mean that everything is hunky-dory. No. It is likely that I will have to fight. And I'll probably also have to efficiently take out hostiles. I have ensured that Hermione won't have to fight by the life debts that I invoked."

They all sat in another weary silence, which Hermione finally broke, irked by the "won't have to fight" part. "I want to be at Hogwarts." The sentence was singular, simple yet poignant. She had put everything she felt about the magical world into it, and they could all see her determination in her eyes. "But i don't need protection," she fiercely declared. "I can handle things just fine."

"I know, Hermione. I didn't mean to make you feel like a damsel-in-distress. But since I am going to take the fight to the Ministry, they will target those closest to me, possibly. It is as much for my peace of mind as for your protection, even though with Malfoy gone, the plans to eliminate the Ministry as it is are working very well, so it is only a precaution. That apart, you have been attacked twice in the last two years, once by a basilisk and once by a troll. And it is only by some mercy of Providence that you weren't with Lockhart alone. I don't think you need me of all people to tell you what else his memory charms could accomplish, do you?"

"What do you mean?"

"The DADA Teacher this last year, Gilderoy Lockhart was accomplished only with memory modification charms. I think you can quite imagine what would have happened to students assigned to him for detentions."

"How do you know it didn't?" David felt that sinking feeling every father felt.

"Our Head of House was more vigilant than we gave her credit for. After the first few - and I was one of those who had a detention with him, but he was only being a smarmy git at that time - she took over all the detentions. It was rather obvious he was a liar."

"And this is the school you want to return to?" Jean asked her daughter.

"It won't happen again."

"How would you know?"

"Because of two reasons. Firstly, I am Heir to two founders, so my blood is in the wards. I **_will always know_** now **."**

 **"** And the second?"

"Should Hermione be in any danger, and as my protectorate, I will literally be notified of the situation, and the best and quickest way to reach her."

"And there you come back to the bone of contention," Jean muttered. Her parents both sighed in resignation. "We don't really have a choice, do we?" David asked with quite some heat.

"You do have a choice, sir. You have two choices without me adding the third. It is just that I care a lot for Hermione, and I honestly think that you all becoming my Protectorates will help. I won't coerce you, but I would still like it if you'd note the option."

"Are you sure that Hermione will be protected, and there will not be any other fallout?"

"Yes. I can promise you that. Neither of you will be affected by any fallout."

"That doesn't exactly inspire confidence. What about you?"

"They daren't. I have too much insurance, and not necessarily of the monetary kind."

"Well proceed then," David replied resignedly. He was unsure what the boy could do, but this way he at least had someone he could demand answers from.

"Thank you. I, Hadrian James, son of James Charlus, Head of the Noble Houses of Gryffindor and Slytherin, the Ancient and Noble House of Peverell and the Ancient and Most Noble House of Potter, hereby name David Charles Granger, his wife, Jean Emily Granger and their daughter, Hermione Jean Granger as Protectorates of the four Houses; and hereby also decree that any slight against their honour will be considered a slight against my Houses. Do you agree?"

"I do," they intoned in unison.

A flash of light surrounded them all. "There, now, I can hire people to set wards around your home, or can do so myself. One of the wards will make it similar to a pureblood home, so that you can practice magic at home."

Hermione squealed again and literally jumped- _jumped_ into Harry's arms. "Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" she kept repeating, even as Harry went slightly blue due to lack of air. David was frowning again, while Jean moved to prise her daughter off Harry before he passed out due to asphyxiation. Hermione blushed and apologised, even as Harry sank weakly into the couch.

Massaging his throat lightly, Harry continued, "Now the only responsibility on your part is to keep my secrets. For example, I don't want my form revealed to people I don't trust, and that means everybody barring my godbrother and our Grandmothers, and Chief Bones who is the Head of the DMLE."

"Not Ron either?"

"No. Nobody should know, not even Dumbledore. Keeping that topic aside," Harry jumped abruptly with a smirk, "I think you should subscribe to The Daily Prophet. There will be quite a lot of surprises."

It broke the reverie, as Hermione recognised the smirk as something she had seen on Fred's and George's faces. "Harry James Potter! What do you know?"

"Merlin! All three names! I am scared!" Harry cried in mock-panic, as he retreated from the House.

* * *

As they prepared to turn in for the night, David and Jean's conversation returned to the topic of their afternoon visitor. He had given them a lot to think about, besides also, at least, seeming to be a person of impeccable character. Sure, he was going to have flaws, and would make mistakes as all humans did; he was still somebody who would take responsibility of those mistakes.

"David? What do you think of Harry?"

David shrugged and grunted in a non-committal manner, before replying, "Odd."

"Odd? How exactly is he odd? The way he behaves, sometimes as a twelve year old and sometimes as a person older than either of us? Or is this about his transformations into a pup? What about the intensity about him when he speaks about our little girl?"

"It is all that and more, Jean," David said in a musing manner. "He is too measured; too controlled. He wants to hide away apart of his self, something that he is ashamed of, probably. He seems to have an odd two pronged, almost diametrically opposite pair of ways to deal with each situation. On one hand, he had a clearly abused childhood. Such children almost never trust others, and if they do, the one they trust becomes an infallible anchor. He is straddling both ways. He doesn't trust anyone except Hermione, and she is everything- _everything_ for him. If I know one thing for sure, it is this- Harry Potter will go to any lengths to ensure that Hermione is safe in every perceivable way. Have you observed that Hermione didn't know everything, and she has told us lesser than he did? He took the fall for her, telling us about that world, knowing we would be angry- so he made Hermione a victim to prevent us being angry at her. He is confident when it comes to dealing with situations that involve his decision-making skills and thinking out of the box as long as it doesn't involve dealing with people on his side. Today he had no intention of forgiving you, and I am sure that he truly hasn't, but for Hermione, he at least pretended to do so."

"I know that David," Jean bit out. "Are none of you ever going to let me hear the end of that? I have never felt as bad as I did when he forgave me, I almost wanted him to not do so," she said bitterly.

"I can't put that down to his upbringing, truthfully. Would you let anyone impugn your honour, character or values? It was a very natural reaction."

"Yes," Jean sighed. "If he somehow is taken out of the funk that you described, what would your impression of him be?"

David tried to evade Jean's eyes resolutely. "I'd rather not say," he finally ground out.

Jean smirked. "Let me say it then. One day, he will try for things to happen so that Hermione will be the next beautiful, bashful, brainy bookworm Lady Potter, and you'll be telling her kids how grandma thought their father wanted to kill their mum, and also how he cold-shouldered grandma for a few days after that."

David paled. "Not until she is thirty!" Jean merely laughed in an unrestrained manner.

Her laughter hid the giggles of a blushing Hermione who had come to their room for a talk, but had thought better than to interrupt. She couldn't help it. But as she thought of it again, she blushed. She **did not** like Harry that way!


	20. Chapter 20

**Padfoot Rides Again**

In his grim, stinking, cold cell in the tower on the island of Azkaban, Sirius Black was counting the days from the pup's message to Fudge's inspection day. It had been nearly three and a half weeks since the Pup had first contacted him. Three and a half weeks when he had shrugged off the effects of at least five of his twelve year stay at Azkaban, aided chiefly by the Pup's plan, his power and his Patroni- never mind the fact that one of the Patroni was Sirius' own animagus form. He had lately taken to roaming around the prison building as the Grim, and had also successfully conducted a reconnaissance of the island with respect to its layout and weaknesses. After all, the Pup couldn't handle that part of the plan when he was totally ignorant of the conditions surrounding the prison fortress. He was due another Happiness Hamper, as Harry called it, soon. It would give him news about anything of the world across the sea. Sure enough, in about a matter of five minutes he felt the welcome- and now familiar- feeling of warmth and happiness that he had come to associate with the Hamper.

 _"Hello, old dog! I am the secret-keeper of our hideout. It has been bought on behalf of the MPP Foundation, which of course, doesn't exist. I apparently can't be a homeowner, but can be the chief of a board that can own property. So, well, here it is. Marauders' Place can be found at numbers two, four and six, Privet Drive, Little Whinging- Surrey. Got a memory of a wonderful place, didn't you?_

 _"Stay as Padfoot till the poncy git Fudge turns up. Whenever you are ready to move, think of me very hard. It will come across to me on our link. Be ready. As planned, wait a day before you escape. For now, concentrate on the secret, and on the password. If things get to you a bit, send it down my way by the link._

 _"I am waiting for you, Padfoot. I've also got a nice little surprise for you, and I am going to claim that I beat you, old man! Be well and solemnly swear that you're up to no good!_

 _"Oh hell, I almost forgot. Lots of funny things have happened. I took the Head of House Ring of House Gryffindor, House Potter, and most amusingly enough, House Slytherin, by conquest. Talk of pranks, huh! I wasn't an adult when I bought the house, but now I suppose the plea will be passed by this weekend, that's before the senile old bastard returns from wherever he is sashaying with Snivellus in a pink tutu! And yes, once you escape Azkaban, don't be an idiot and swim all the way back to shore. Once you are safely out of the magical traces detection spellwork on that bloody place, transform and call for Dobby. Mind you, he is one odd elf."_

That message made Sirius want to laugh and also curse the Pup for trying to make him laugh in Azkaban. He still wasn't sure whether the pup had imagined Snivellus or Dumbledore in a pink tutu. Either way, it was an image he could have done without. Getting the Head of House rings this early was a pleasant surprise, but then again, the Gryffindor ring chose those with valiant deeds even before they came of age; indeed, it seemed to have a mind of its own. It hadn't chosen seven consecutive claimants till Charlus succeeded his father, and it was not so much of a coincidence that none of them had feats of valour to their name.

Sirius knew that the Pup had to have done something truly special for the People to name him as one of their own. He had to ask him about that too. That alone opened up the avenues for Harry to claim the other two Headships. What however almost brought a dementor to his cell was him cracking up at the idea of Lord Slytherin being in Gryffindor. Yes, that was an entirely Marauder-worthy prank. How proud of his godson, Sirius was! Also, he now no longer had to hope that he would make it to shore with the help of the Patroni. The Pup had come up with, well not a solution, but the sensible way to engineer the escape.

Sirius had to admit that the Pup had planned adroitly. Getting property off the same people who have hated you takes tremendous balls, and Sirius had to admit, in context, it was just the same as him buying Bartemius Crouch's property legally. The faint picture of the house that had formed in his mind when the secret had been revealed was impressive to say the least. Sirius realised that he was perhaps not supposed to be as much of a father as a father figure for his godson. Whatever the way ahead was, it was infinitely better than Sirius had ever hoped. This was after all a matter of life and death for him, disguised as a massive prank. He had a single objective: get to Harry. He relapsed into his other form as he waited for any indication of the imminent visit of the 'poncy git' as Harry called him. Now that Sirius had his escape and Harry to look forward to, he found the wait interminably long.

As luck would have it, the warden came about, banging on the cell doors with a conjured baton and peering into each cell. "Oi you bloody rascals, you better be on your best behaviour for the day after tomorrow! Old Fudge is going to make your day by showing his face on his yearly visit, he is. Make sure you keep your haggard, sorry excuses of faces right in his line of sight, will you? Give our Minister a right little show!" Sirius nearly wagged his tail as he heard that, before coming to his senses and transforming before the warden could see him.

"Hey, Black, you know, if you live here for two more years, you'll have lived here for as many years as the number of people you killed."

Sirius bit back the retort he really wanted to get across, "No you idiot, for that I'll have to live here for seventy-four years more. All eighty six were big death eaters, including the one that killed your parents, you ingrate!" Instead he kept to the Pup's plan and just let out a loud gurgling moan that thoroughly disgusted the warden.

"Your mind snapped finally, did it Black? For however long you'll live Black, you'll be a guest at this top-of-the-line hotel!" he jeered.

Sirius kept silent. After all, the warden was set to lose his job when Sirius would escape. When the irritant finally passed by, now to go after Bellatrix presumably, the part time dog had to rein in his instinct to jump and frolic around that dingy cell in joy. He was overjoyed. Just three more days of torture, of exposure to dementors, of anguish remained before he would escape to freedom, as planned by his marauder of a godson. A godson, who, Sirius was sure, would skin him alive if he bollixed the plan in anyway. The way Harry spoke in his messages sometimes, Sirius was sure showed a lot more of Lily's brains and viciousness combined with James' cunning and planning. He felt lucky that he wouldn't be crossing Harry. Sirius was a powerful wizard in his own right, but he wasn't entirely sure that he could stand up to his godson. And Sirius was rather proud of that. He concentrated very, _very_ hard as he tried to convey Fudge's visit plans to Harry. It was barely a few minutes later that Patronus Padfoot appeared and spoke in Harry's voice, "Friday night- Death to the Rat."

* * *

Fudge arrived amidst much fanfare at Azkaban on Thursday; at least as much fanfare as was appropriate for the incumbent Minister at the most terrifying magical gaol. He was joined by the supreme lover of Dementors, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister, Dolores Umbridge. The Senior Minion was at her simpering best, aided by being in her element where everybody except her was suffering. Jeering at the prisoners, several of whom held the same beliefs as she did, as if it was her birthright, the woman followed her figurehead of a boss, the most impotent Minister for Magic that had ever taken the reigns of the magical society in the British Isles.

Fudge himself made a huge show of approaching each cell and deriding and chastising each inmate for their actions. Some were common thieves and were treated to a kindly Minister trying to tell them to walk on the straight and narrow. A case in point was Mundungus Fletcher. Fudge knew that the lowlife was useful to several upstanding citizens- one of whom, he reminded himself, he had to work to keep out of Azkaban- in their various business interests. They chatted randomly for a few minutes as Umbridge looked on in undisguised disgust. Fudge was quite sure that the little sneak had gotten so used to his short sentences at Azkaban that he looked at the time spent there as if it was a vacation in a cold place. Slowly and steadily, they worked their way up to the level where the most heavily guarded inmates were kept. The dementors had gathered around all the cells, in their usual positions. Harry and Sirius had decided that it would be necessary to prevent suspicion. Sirius had assiduously practised keeping an only barely sane front, as well as letting the effects of the dementors wash over him. He knew that Harry was at their new home being cared for Dobby and drinking prodigious amounts of hot chocolate to combat the effects which he was to 'send' over their mind link. Sirius actively hated it, but Harry had been adamant. Sirius could easily visualise James' set jaw and Lily's flashing green eyes as Harry threatened to neuter him. Sirius had backed down with his tail between his legs- figuratively and literally.

At long last, Fudge came up to his cell. "Ah, Black, I hope I find you in good spirits?" the idiot jeered.

Sirius turned his silver-grey eyes to the man and stared before feigning a look of recognition. "Senior cum Under-the-Minion Cornelius Umbridge... Mister Dolores Fudge... it's so nice to see you. Have you got spirits? I'd like some spirits to pour inside me. It's so cold here you know," he rasped.

The paraphernalia with the Minister and his stooge snickered at what appeared to be just a partially insane man's rambling. Cornelius turned as green as the bowler hat he held, while Dolores had a foul simpering smile which clashed hideously with her eyes which were bugging out and twitching. Internally she was having a war between the intense wish to have this man kissed by the dementors, and leaving him be to suffer some more. She realised she couldn't be that wanton in front of the Minister. So, fortunately for Sirius, suffering won. Sirius had to breathe hard to try and control his laughter. "Damn you, Prongslet," he groused mentally. "You just had to give me that idea didn't you?"

"Well we do have spirits from time to time to celebrate the downfall of your master at the hands of the boy whom you betrayed to him, but I daresay, you won't like that much now, will you?" asked Fudge magnanimously, as if his gloating was really going to get Sirius over the edge.

"That's right you twit. That boy you talk of is going to have you by your bits when he helps me escape tomorrow night," Sirius gloated mentally, but only gave a strangled growl and moan in reality, making the visiting party eye him in disgust. Sirius fought to keep a frown.

"As nice as it was to talk to you, Black, I'll have to move. We shall meet you next year," said Fudge, hurrying away from the cell.

"Oh, yes Fudge. If Prongslet has his way, we'll, but just we'll be on opposite sides of the bars," was the reply in an undertone.

* * *

About five hours later, Fudge sat in the warden's office, with several Patroni prowling around the door to keep off the dementors, gulping down yet another shot of Firewhisky. He hated Azkaban, and listening to the idiotic blubbering of the demented prisoners- all the while trying to stave off the effects of the dementors- was tremendous torture.

Then there were impudent mongrels like Sirius Black, who, even in his insanity, could push Fudge's buttons. Sirius Black! This was the perfect solution to Lucius' problems. Cornelius knew that Lucius wanted the man dead. The Potter boy wanted Lucius out of the picture for the attack on his person. Perhaps the boy didn't know, but Black had betrayed his parents to He-who-must-not-be-named. That was an excellent bargaining plea. Hell, he could also turn Black's execution into a wonderful birthday present for Potter. He could save Lucius in lieu of Sirius Black. The Potter Boy would, in the knowledge of the betrayal, turn away his attention from Lucius' misjudged actions. Cornelius smiled. There was a reason why he was the Minister of Magic, after all. All it would take would be one week of deliberations in the Wizengamot.

* * *

Back in his cell, Sirius was counting the minutes as he waited for the following night. As far as he was concerned, the Pup's plan was going to work, and **he** was going to **make** it work. It was going to be difficult, but it was the best plan there was. He would see his little tyke, the kid that he had sworn to protect and was now trying to protect him. He would see his godson, the pup/cub/Prongslet, the boy that he had failed that night twelve years ago. He was going to see the one person who believed him, the one anchor of his sanity.

Sirius had become so fidgety, that he took to pacing the cell. He would pace across the cell, transform into Padfoot, scamper back across the cell and transform again. He nearly wore a hole into the cold stone floor with his impatience. Sirius paced through the night, unable to sleep even a wink, as the enormity of what the next night would bring nearly making him develop cold feet. But he gritted his teeth and started some breathing exercises. This would be his only chance. He ate the meal provided; barely paying any heed to it. It never was worth paying any heed to anyway.

Sirius wondered what he would do when he would be free from Azkaban, if not truly free yet. Over the days since Prongslet's messages and Patroni, Sirius had been doing a fair bit of thinking. He had promised James that he would always put Harry first. Why and how was he convinced to leave the Pup with Hagrid? Whatever the reason, there was no way that he would have done that voluntarily. Every once in a while, he wondered whether his contact truly was Harry, and whether or not he shouldn't be cautious. Contrary to popular belief, Sirius **was** a very cautious person when it came to most situations. Caution, vigilance and the habit of gathering all possible information and intelligence before making a move had been drilled into him by his father Orion, Charlus Potter and his mentor in the Auror force, Alastor Moody. Two of them had died by the time Sirius had been arrested, and he had grieved them both.

Sirius never agreed with his father's blood purity ideals, but he was still as loving a father as could be in straight-jacketed pureblood households. He had prevented his mother from abusing (after the first Cruciatus incident; of course Orion had punished his wife the same way. The Bella that became a Death Eater took after her aunt on that matter - both women relished the torture) Sirius when he opposed the blood status rants, and was someone who was always up for intelligent discussion, much like the Lord Black, Sirius' grandfather Arcturus. Charlus was James' father and he had married Arcturus' youngest sister, Dorea. He had actually been the fun-loving, more importantly prank-loving father figure that Sirius yearned for, especially after his sorting into Gryffindor. Charlus and his friend Alastor, who held the top positions in the DMLE and the Auror Department respectively, had inspired the impressionable young boy.

He wondered why Alastor, too, never came to help Sirius, or even to meet him. It was a bitter disappointment. Sirius abruptly shook his head, more like a dog trying to get his ears free of water. "The Pup is going to have his work cut out. He'll be spending so much time with an old foggy who has trouble keeping his mind on track," he snorted. He had been getting off the subject again, his train of thoughts losing the track yet again.

So where was he? Ah, yes- Caution. Sirius indeed was a cautious man, as patience, mental strength, and the ability to think through a disastrous situation and to be able to keep an even mind were all prerequisites for being a licensed Auror. As things weren't hunky-dory, Sirius had allowed his prankster self to come to the fore, to help people have some joy and laughter in their lives. The war had started in 1969, barely two years before he started Hogwarts. He just couldn't honestly believe that he would mess up his priorities that badly in the first place. Again, even though he did go after the rat, it was impossible that a mere clerk in the Department of Magical Transportation and Regulation could get the best of him. It was almost as if he was wading through jelly while his brain was off swimming in treacle. Sirius was once again thankful for Harry's suggestion regarding Occlumency. It had helped him sort his memories, which had led to him asking questions that he otherwise wouldn't have asked. It also led to a severe drop in his trust in Dumbledore. There were just too many inconsistencies all around the prophecy and the attack and just about everything. He would have to relay this to Prongslet, something that he would do as soon as he possibly could. He knew there were tensions between Harry and Dumbledore, and reasoned that perhaps Harry had found out about Dumbledore's manipulations.

Sirius paced some more. Now that he could almost taste his freedom, night simply seemed too far away.

* * *

At about half past eight the next evening, a skinny Grim made his way past his prison cell bars. He was panting slightly, his breath coming in short bursts, as much due to fear as due to nervousness. He slowly crept in the shadows as he made his way out of the hell-hole. Sirius was unable to resist a last prank on his fellow inmates- inmates, not fellow **_convicts_**. He crept down to the cells of Rookwood, the Lestrange brothers and Antonin Dolohov. Sirius especially hated Dolohov. He and Lucius Malfoy had killed his betrothed, Marlene; or so he had heard. They had never found her body. He so wanted to bite and savage Dolohov, but right now, he had better plans. Dolohov would get his comeuppance, as would every other Death Eater.

But he frowned when it came to Bellatrix. The Bellatrix he remembered wasn't interested in the Death Eater movement at all. She had been a tremendous Runes wiz, and had wanted to achieve her Mastery, particularly focussing on Ritual Runes. How did she get into this sort of a sorry state? Bellatrix had had a very wicked sense of humour, but Sirius doubted that she could have found any humour in killing and torturing. The Bellatrix he knew couldn't have tortured Frank and Alice the way she did. That was something right up his mother's alley. Sirius checked himself again before he became lost in his thoughts. He growled and glared at them all, causing another bout of frenzied shrieking, which was quite normal for the prisoners in the gaol. Sirius decided that he had taken enough risks. Prongslet would never forgive him if he failed now. Sometimes, with the things the Pup accomplished, Sirius was sure he could be scarier than the dementors.

He had made a rough plan for his escape based on his reconnaissance excursions around the island. He knew where the cliff upon which the prison stood had the gentlest slope. The set up was like a macabre three tier cake. The top storey was the prison complex. The middle part was a sheer cliff. This cliff descended sharply onto a flat beach, for lack of a better geographical term. Once he reached the furthest ends of the cliff, Padfoot slowly transformed into Sirius again, cursing his animagus form. Why couldn't he be a bloody mountain goat? With sore fingers and arms, Sirius clutched onto crevices in the rock face, cursing every time he slipped. Two hundred feet of sheer rock was not easy for anyone, particularly under biting _natural_ cold and sleet, more so when the rock was topped by dementors and the mountaineer was nowhere close to being in good health. When he finally reached the bottom, Sirius quickly thought hard across the link to Harry. He then transformed, and found a sheltered hollow in the cliff. He just had to rest before he could undertake the swim back to freedom. By the time the clock struck ten, Sirius was well rested. Almost as if Harry had been waiting for exactly that, a veritable deluge of Patroni flooded into him.

"I have to teach the kid some control. At this rate, without dementor exposure, he could render someone insane with ecstasy and happiness, particularly the ladies," groused Sirius with a smile.

Bolstered by the Hamper, Sirius waded out into the shivering cold water as the Grim. He realised as he did, that the cold wasn't as oppressive as it would have been had he been escaping without the Pup's magical aid. He swam towards the English mainland, veering slightly south-west. The island of Azkaban was an unplottable island west of Norway. The cold was as much a geographical facet as it was due to the dementors. He had to swim about 1 nautical mile (roughly 1.85 kilometre) before he felt the far reaching wards ripple across his fur. He shuddered involuntarily at the feeling. Deciding to swim some more, he swam a further kilometre, before he transformed in water (another first for the old dog). "Dobby!" he rasped. "DOBBY!" he called out again, a lot stronger this time. A very odd elf materialised next to him wearing an extremely odd sort of breathing apparatus. "Death to the Rat!" he snarled, giving the password they had decided.

"Dobby is being sorry, Harry Potter's Dogfather. There is being lot of distance to cover. Dobby misjudged. Dobby is being unable to go the whole distance in one go, so we is taking short pops. You be wearing this for breathings."

Sirius cringed at the Dogfather reference, but said nothing and took the vague conjuration which was Dobby's interpretation of a scuba diving apparatus. Harry had sent the elf with instructions regarding the use. Sirius was a pretty adept swimmer; so in the case, as was expected, he couldn't use the apparatus properly, he could still swim for short distances. They completed the journey in eight pops, with Sirius helping along a rather tired and floundering Dobby when they were done with a pop. Contrary to popular belief, Elf magic wasn't strong enough to actually complete a nearly thousand kilometre trip with a passenger. That was especially true when they had to fight against the elements. When they finally reached the coast of England, Sirius decided that Dobby simply needed a rest.

"Harry Potter's Dogfather is just as great and good as he is. He be saving Dobby from bad masters Malfoys and bonding with him! Dobby knew Serious would be good, but so great he would be, Dobby did not know!" the elf crowed through his tears. The high pitch of Dobby's voice made Sirius shudder involuntarily.

"It is alright Dobby. After all as Harry's godfather, I have a standard to live up to," he replied, in a bid to placate the elf. Dobby only returned a wide-eyed look, then nodded his head violently enough for Sirius to close his eyes to avoid being sick due to the blurring sight. Dobby had brought along light snacks for the two of them on Harry's insistence, another thing for which Sirius would be eternally thankful. After all, how many thirteen year olds rescued their godfathers from the cold hell on earth?

As he was munching through a sandwich, Prongslet's thoughts filtered across their mind link. "Oi Sirius! Where are you two at? Did you get to England safely?"

"Don't worry Pup," Sirius sent back, "Dobby's a bit tired. The distance is quite a lot, even for a powerful being like him." Happiness permeated across the link from both sides. It was then that Sirius knew that Harry was going to be genuinely happy to even see him. Once the two were done with their small fillings, they rested again, Sirius as a dog, and Dobby changing his appearance to look like another. It was nearly half an hour later that Dobby announced that they were leaving and ordered Sirius to think hard about the secret. Clutching onto Sirius' hand, he popped off right into Marauders' Place.

Sirius sucked in his breath through his teeth, and then whistled as he took in the property. He had had a vague picture of the house or rather, houses; but when he saw the whole place with his own eyes, it just made him happy to be able to live in a place that would remind him (albeit only a very little) of his time at Potter Manor. He was lost in his musings when a large, black furry creature bowled him over. The creature, a Grim Pup hounded about him enthusiastically, wagging its tail madly. In the lights in the grounds, he could see that the Pup had **_green_** eyes. As he sat up on the ground, peering intently at the pup he realised there was something different, very, very different about the pup.

"No bloody way!" he whispered as the pup came up to him and laid its head on his lap, before barking softly and sitting back on its haunches. "Is that you, Prongslet?"

The pup gave him what could only be considered a grin, before transforming into his godson, who sat cross-legged on the ground in front of him. "Yes, Padfoot, it's me. I told you I achieved something before you did, didn't I?"

Sirius gaped at his godson, unable to articulate, before he rolled onto his back and laughed. He laughed just like he had that day when he faced Peter. Except, this time, it was real laughter. He knew that Harry was going to be a lot like James, but he was an Animagus and a Grim Pup instead, at that! Now he was a Marauder like James, and really was Sirius' pup. Oh! How he liked it! Sirius was right chuffed. He laughed with real happiness, something that he hadn't felt for twelve years, as Harry watched his godfather with not a little amusement. When Sirius was finally done, his voice was croaky and his eyes were a bit shiny.

"Let it all out Sirius. Don't hold back. I want my godfather fit as a fiddle before I present him in court."

Sirius was completely unable to speak. He just let the dam that held back his pent up emotions for twelve years break. He sobbed and grieved for his brother in all but blood. He grieved for Lily. He grieved for Marlene. He bawled like a baby and cried, stamping his hands and feet all around him. He even turned into Padfoot and howled in a pitiful, heart-rending way. Twelve years of suffering, of feeling guilt for something he wasn't responsible, of the feeling of betrayal- both by Wormtail, and Moony too in a way- bubbled up and kept flowing out of him. He never realised it as Harry poured out another Happiness Hamper to keep guard over him.

The boy silently waited as Sirius let go of all the negativity, the ethereal beings around him soaking it all up. After nearly half an hour of intermittent grieving and howling, Sirius finally calmed down. He looked tired, and was sagging heavily. Harry had already sent Dobby into the House where the elf proceeded to gorge on the food Harry had already set out for him. Harry could see that Sirius needed the same treatment. He helped his wet and soggy dog of a godfather up and nearly hauled his wraith-like form to his room.

* * *

Over the following week, Sirius broke down several times, and Harry who was still unsure how he should act less familiar around his godfather, considering he knew Sirius for at least two years and had heard stories about him from Moony for another. So he just buckled down and took up the job of Sirius' carer. He and Dobby alternated the cooking duties, with Dobby also doubling up with the cleaning of the House while Harry looked after Sirius. Sirius did not speak much, but under a regimen of proper food, lots of sunshine, a Patroni guard, Pepper-Up potions, Nutrient Potions and several mugs of hot chocolate a day, he rapidly started regaining his colour. Harry had coaxed him to get a shave and haircut at the local barber, and then made sure that the barber was obliviated. Since disillusionment was something they had used liberally during the time in the tent, Harry learnt it quickly and took Sirius for walks around the Privet Drive after disillusioning him. He himself always wore the invisibility cloak to ensure that there was no suspicion.

Two days after Sirius' arrival, the Daily Prophet broke out the story of his escape. Harry was very proud to read about his exploits.

 **Sirius Black escapes from Azkaban!**

 _Sirius Black, 33, the Secret-Keeper and betrayer of the Potters and the mass-murderer who killed twelve muggles and Order of Merlin, Third Class Holder, Peter Pettigrew escaped from Azkaban, the Ministry has confirmed. Black was last sighted at Azkaban on the day following Minister Fudge's annual inspection of the prison facility._

 _Confirming the news, a Ministry spokesperson released an official statement in that regard. "Sirius Black is a deranged mass murderer. The Ministry appeals to the general Wizarding public to not panic. The Dementors and the Auror force have been pressed into action. A Kiss-on-Sight order has been approved. If any magical individual bearing resemblance to Black is seen, please take precaution and do not engage. Please call the Auror Force as soon as possible. We are confident that Black will be caught soon."_

 _While the Ministry has moved to placate the magical community, a question that everyone must ask is this: How did anyone manage to escape the most heavily guarded prison facility? How did Black slip past the Dementors?_

 _It must be noted that Black was a former Auror and was the partner of James Potter in the Force. He hails from a traditionally Dark family, and is also the cousin of Bellatrix Lestrange, another very high profile Death Eater._

 _For more about Sirius Black: Pg 4._

 _Quotes from former acquaintances about Sirius Black: Pg 5_

Harry snorted at the officious manner of the report. It said nothing of substance at all. Harry hadn't expected it to reveal the lack of trial for Sirius, but there should have been at least some reference to shoddy investigation and circumstantial evidence. "Let it be never said that the Magical World was accused of competence in any form," he mused out aloud.

Neville, Hermione and Luna had all sent letters the same day. Neville and Hermione had advised caution and had literally implored to not go looking for Sirius. That didn't say much, because Harry wouldn't do that, as he assured them. He had _already_ done that after all. Luna however, had given a very cryptic warning. "You have accomplished the easy part. The real difficulty starts now. The truth is after all, a beautiful and terrible thing," she had warned. Harry had been unable to make head or tail of it.

The real problem was Granny Min sending a letter, practically demanding that Harry turn up at Hogwarts, before they would both go to Dundee. Harry had no choice but to go meet her (he took the Bus to Hogsmeade, and then went in from underneath the Willow. She didn't ask how he got in). He spent quite a few hours, convincing her (irritating her) to come live at his house in Privet Drive. When she wouldn't budge, he finally asked her whether she _remembered_ where he lived. When she kept drawing blanks, Harry gave her the secret, on the condition that she wouldn't tell the Headmaster that he had driven away the Dursleys. When he told her about the House, Harry was rewarded with a small laugh from her. That was new. She promised to be around a couple of weeks later. By then, Harry intended to stir the cauldron in the Wizengamot, but just a little.

* * *

Over the period of a week since he had escaped, Sirius had been observing his godson furtively. He was truthfully unsure as to how he should be behaving around Harry. Was he to be the godfather? Was he to be the father? Was he to be a fun uncle? Was he to be an elder brother sort of figure? For Sirius, time had stopped as he stewed for twelve years in Azkaban. He was twenty one when he had been incarcerated, and now was thirty three. Harry seemed thirteen, but acted like a twenty year old sometimes. Sirius couldn't understand him.

He had seen Harry glancing at him, and then sighing in relief that he was there. But the thing that was the most troubling thing for Sirius was the Pup's eyes. They were the same clear, brilliant emerald greens that Lily had, that he had seen on the baby boy he had once held and adored. Yet they weren't. Harry's eyes carried a look that he had seen too much in the last war. It was the look of a person who had suffered a lot, and had seen a lot of suffering. Why was that look in his godson's eyes?

Then there were those reflexes. Every time, at even the smallest sounds, Harry would be alert. He could spring to action from a sleeping position in less than a second. He had seen the Pup dodge insects and birds without even looking in their direction. These were some of the drills that Mad-Eye had used to ingrain speed into his charges. Why was Harry so proficient?

But the most troubling part for him was his casual knowledge of simple but powerful combat spells, particularly spells which could be put into spell chains. Every so often, he had seen Harry carelessly cast a silent spell. Why and how was he able to do that at his age? He had made random comments about the times spent before **_that_** Halloween. Harry sometimes seemed lost, before he would come up with the appropriate response. It was clear to Sirius that the Pup was hiding something. And Sirius wanted to know it. There was but one person Sirius could trust as of that moment; he didn't want to lose trust in Prongslet.

A few days later, as they returned from another walk, Sirius watched as Harry silently removed the disillusionment charm. They made some small talk, had their lunch and Harry went back to reading his non-magical course books. Sirius was fiddling with the television remote control, making a great show of enjoying surfing the channels, but actually observing Harry. From the minute fidgeting, Sirius could tell that Harry knew that Sirius had his eyes on him. Sirius could see that Harry still had his holster and wand on his right arm. He had had enough. He abruptly changed the channels and increased the volume harshly. As expected, Harry rolled off his chair, and crouched onto the floor with his wand released.

"That's it. Pup, we need to talk," Sirius gravely ordered.


	21. Chapter 21

**The Past, the Present and the Future**

Cliche: Sirius is rendered impotent due to his stay in Azkaban. Just mentioned as a possibility, with the obvious alternate solution to cliche trope used to introduce some girl as future Lady Black.

* * *

 ** _He abruptly changed the channels and increased the volume harshly. As expected, Harry rolled off his chair, and crouched onto the floor with his wand released._**

 ** _"_** ** _That's it. Pup, we need to talk," Sirius gravely ordered._**

* * *

Harry knew the game was up as soon as Sirius had said that. He shakily stood up thinking about ways in which he could put off Sirius' questioning. After all, he would have to go up against a former Auror and a Marauder to boot.

"What's the matter Sirius?" Harry asked in what he hoped was an actual innocent questioning tone.

"Don't play dumb with me, Pup. If you are Harry at all, that is," he added as an afterthought.

"What do you mean?" asked Harry angrily. "Of course I am Harry, you git!"

"Are you really? You have almost Hit-Wizard like reflexes, you are hiding something, you have a look in your eyes that is seen in those who have seen quite a lot, you accepted me easily, you seem to be lost when I put in any anecdote from your baby stage- which you claimed you remember... have I missed out anything? Ah yes, you keep an odd watch on me, almost as if fearing I will go somewhere... the list is endless. Who are you, really? Why did you break me out of prison? What have you done to the real Harry?" By now Sirius had an almost feral growl for a voice and an extremely wild look in his eyes.

Harry raised his wand, causing Sirius to flinch, but Harry ignored that. "I, Hadrian James Potter, swear on my life and magic that I am who I claim to be. I am James and Lily Potters' son, Sirius Black's and Alice Longbottom's godson. I have no intention to hurt Sirius Black. So I say, so I swear!" He then created another Hamper. "Are you satisfied, Padfoot?"

"Are you a bloody idiot Prongslet? What did you take a magical Vow for?" Sirius asked, grabbing Harry by the shoulders.

"Well, at least you know now that I am Harry," replied Harry mulishly.

Sirius ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "Look, Harry, I am impetuous, and more so after my stint in Azkaban. But I am unable to understand you. I was supposed to be your father after James, though I still wouldn't ever want his place. But now that I see you, I can't understand what I am supposed to be, with reference to you. I want to be the best godfather I can be now, but you are already too efficient on your own. I don't know where I stand anymore!"

Harry understood what was being said. Sirius doubted that Harry would need him. "Padfoot, listen to me. I'll always, and I mean **always need** you. I have an explanation for everything that you asked, but as of now, I have no means by which to convince you; unless of course, we can get our hands on a pensieve. What I have to tell you is quite literally, **_out of this world_**."

Sirius relaxed at Harry's first statement. He had sussed out what Sirius meant to say, just as Lily could. But he frowned at the rest of his missive. Why would Harry need to convince him? Sirius had started healing after his escape, and he could see that some things weighed just as heavily, or even worse on Harry. He needed to do what was expected from a good godfather. He needed to help Harry heal. "Pup, I can understand that you have much to reveal, and you are lost. Let me ask questions as I can think of them, and you answer me. Will that do?"

"I guess so," replied Harry pensively.

"Well, so here goes. What do you need a Pensieve for to convince me? Is there no other way? Why do you believe that I won't believe you?"

Sirius' second question resonated in Harry's mind. There **_was_** another way. "Padfoot, don't get angry, ok? I, Hadrian James Potter, swear on my life and magic, that what I shall tell him about the past, present and future is true, unless I am relaying my speculations, in which case I will clearly say so. By leave of my Reaper, I offer this knowledge to the one person that I trust the most, Sirius Orion Black, my godfather. So I say, so I swear!" He then raised his wand, and incanted, "Lumos!" to the correct, if blinding effect.

"Prongslet!" barked Sirius, "You've got to stop swearing Magical Oaths at the drop of a hat! Not only is it dangerous, it eventually challenges the magic itself if you just sprinkle oaths like salt over food!"

"Oh. I didn't know that, old man..." Harry started, but was quickly cut off by a growl from Sirius.

"Watch whom you call old, you impudent little whelp!"

"Please accept my apologies, O great and merciful Padfoot of the Marauders! You are the one and only, evergreen, ever young Lord of Pranks and general Tomfoolery..."

"Harry, stop that now. Come back to the matter at hand. What were you going to tell me that needed you swearing a Magical Oath?"

"Er, yes well, about that; I... er... I-I am or at least have memories from the future." He stammered first and then finished very quickly.

"O.K." replied Sirius, quite neutrally. He wasn't sure what to make of that, except for the fact that as Harry hadn't yet died- not something that he wanted- there was at least some grain of truth to this, at least as far as Harry was concerned.

"You aren't going to call me insane?" asked Harry.

"Well you aren't dead yet," Sirius noted helpfully.

"There is that. Well, then, hear me out. In that future, or the other timeline- let's call it O.T. for short- everything progressed normally up to this point, except for our interactions. In this timeline, Fudge came for the inspection early. You escaped around July end. Anyway, I never knew that the Weasleys' pet rat Scabbers was Peter. They won a lottery, and went off to Egypt. The Minister showed you the copy of Daily Prophet bearing their picture- and that of Scabbers on it. You realised that Pettigrew was at Hogwarts and escaped on your own. You travelled for two weeks and came here. In the O.T., I didn't garner the resources to buy the property as I have done now. Vernon Dursley's sister, Marge, visited, and was bad-mouthing mum and dad. I blew her up like a balloon and escaped from the house."

Harry barely got past a half of the summer corresponding to the one they were experiencing when Sirius interrupted with a massive guffaw. Evidently he had met Marge before, for he asked, "How in Merlin's name did that woman survive being even more blown up than she was?"

"May I continue?" Harry asked testily.

"Ye- yes, Oh Merlin!" Sirius chocked out as he tried to control his laughter.

When Sirius had calmed down sufficiently, his godson continued, "You were hiding around as Padfoot, probably to meet me. But when we came face to face, you scared me, and as I drew a wand to defend myself, I fell over and accidentally ended up calling the Knight Bus. Anyway, during my third year, Moony became the DADA teacher. He never really discussed either about you or mum and dad that year, probably because he was ordered by that old bastard. At the end of the year, you dragged away Ronald Weasley- who was my friend at that time, and who was holding Scabbers- and took him to the Shrieking Shack. There we confronted Wormtail, with Moony finding out about him from the Marauders' Map, which he confiscated from me during the year. We were all going to take him to Dumbledore. But coincidentally, it was a Full Moon Night, and Snivellus who had gone to Moony's quarters with the Wolfsbane Potion, saw the Map and came to the Shack, just before Peter had transformed. My friend Hermione Granger and I knocked him out."

"So you got my name cleared?"

"Won't it be better if you don't interrupt?" Harry scolded. "For the record, no. We couldn't do that. After the confrontation, we were leading out a shackled Wormtail to the school when Moony, who hadn't had his dose of the Potion transformed. In the ensuing confusion, Wormtail- whom we hadn't stunned- transformed and escaped. Hermione and I came back in time using her time turner to save you. We couldn't catch Wormtail. We set you free. In the O.T., the Dementors which were guarding the school attacked us. At that time, I had only one Patronus- only Prongs. My Patronus was strong enough to drive them all off. You escaped on a Hippogriff which had been condemned to Death."

There was a long protracted silence, which was eventually broken by Sirius breaking out into raucous laughter. "Oh, bloody hell! Prongslet! That's the best prank ever!"

"SIRIUS ORION BLACK, THIS IS NO LAUGHING MATTER! I AM TELLING YOU SOME EXTREMELY SERIOUS THINGS HERE! I NEED YOUR HELP, AND I AM TELLING YOU ALL THIS BECAUSE YOU ARE THE ONLY ONE I CAN TRUST TO GUIDE ME TO USE THE KNOWLEDGE OF THE FUTURE, AS IT HAPPENED!"

Sirius, in that moment, seriously appreciated the fact that the Pup was as much Lily's fawn as he was James' sprog. "I-I am sorry Prongslet. It's just that it seems so far-fetched, is all." He still had mirth in his eyes. Harry decided he needed to snap him out of that, and fast.

"I can see that my efforts at a linear narration are being wasted. Let me shock you first. Tell me Sirius, do you know what a Horcrux is?"

Every bit of humour died from Sirius' face as soon as Harry uttered that word. "How do you know about it?" he asked harshly.

"Well, hold patience now. I promise you, within three or four sentences, you are going to start raving and ranting in anger." At Harry's authoritative words, Sirius nodded sharply. "Well, I know about Horcruxes because in that timeline, I was on a mission to destroy Voldemort's Horcruxes. He had made, by then, including an accidental one, **_seven._** That's of course to the best of my knowledge, which might be flawed."

"Excuse me for a bit." Sirius literally barged out of the room to throw up. When he returned, he looked very pale again. "You know, I should have talked about this before eating. He made seven? I take it they are still there?"

"Believing me now are you?"

"Prongslet, I am sorry. When you said it was a serious matter, I never dreamed of this." He shuddered violently.

"Well, I have one more, terrible surprise for you, old dog. You remember, I told you I had some side effects of the Killing Curse? Well the accidental Horcrux was my scar."

Harry immediately regretted telling Sirius this. Sirius, on hearing that, fainted. Harry revived him and helped him into a chair. He summoned Dobby, gave him a few galleons, and asked him to purchase a bottle of Firewhisky for Sirius. If ever Harry would understand Sirius getting sloshed, it would be then. "Your bloody scar was a receptacle of **_that_**?"

"Yes. And I got rid of it. Though the manner I tried that in the O.T. is how I, or my memories- I am not sure which- got here in the first place."

"What the hell do you mean?"

"Well in the O.T. I was on a yearlong hunt with Weasley and Hermione. Snivellus, on Dumbledore's orders had murdered him the year before. Dumbledore destroyed one, but was cursed in the process. I had, and have in this timeline, destroyed one Horcrux unwittingly at the end of my second year. We found another three, and had destroyed them. But we destroyed two during the Battle of Hogwarts. Snivellus was branded a traitor, but he was working for Dumbledore, apparently. He gave me his memories of Dumbledore telling him that I was a Horcrux too. Let me tell you this, before you berate me. In that timeline, I was a fool with no self-worth and dosed up to the gills with Love Potions and the like. We will come back to the Potions later. Anyway, I walked up to Voldemort, like the idiot that I was, and **_allowed_** him to kill me. In the place between the worlds, I met Dark Lord Dumbledore, who effectively told me that I could return as the Killing Curse only separated the Souls and as Voldemort's soul piece was gone, I could defy being AK-d again. That was when my Personal Grim Reaper intervened. She told me how the old bastard had manipulated my whole life, prepping me up as a sacrifice. I was supposed to, as I will now, bring the mundane and magical worlds closer through technology- I was to be a technomancer, with you reforming the political arena of magical Britain. And I was to marry my soul-mate, who was snatched away from me by the potions. She told me that I had the option of returning to the same time as I had died then- the midnight of May 2nd, 1998. The other option was returning to a point back in time to set things right, with my knowledge of the O.T. but without any academic knowledge- that was another thing that I massively bollixed then. Obviously, I chose the latter."

This led to Sirius doing something he hadn't done yet. He gathered up Harry, and held his godson, rocking him gently. Guilt racked Sirius all over again. He had not been with Harry even in his last moments. He felt like a failure.

"Pup, I've got two questions. Why wasn't I with you? AND WHAT THE BLOODY HELL WERE YOU THINKING, YOU ABSOLUTELY IDIOTIC LITTLE PRAT?"

Harry looked at him, and for the first time since he had met him again, Sirius saw despair in Harry's eyes. Harry couldn't contain himself. He just threw his arms around Sirius, and grieved - grieved, not cried, something that he still couldn't do - as he wanted to but couldn't when he had seen Sirius die. He had stewed alone in his isolation. Sirius had, by then, gotten a good idea what exactly happened, something that Harry confirmed as he mumbled, "Fifth year... prophecy... department of mysteries... passed through the Veil...didn't listen to Hermione...trap by Death Eaters"

When Harry finally calmed down, Sirius held him at an arm's length. It was then, in the vulnerability that Harry showed, that Sirius found his answer. He was to be a father, godfather, friend, elder brother, fun uncle, guide and mentor. He was to be everything for his Pup. "Let it all out, Pup. I am sorry I shouted, but this was beyond idiotic. And now go linearly. Tell me everything. I want to know how you have been."

Harry sat down, and then told Sirius everything about the Dursleys. He knew Sirius would get angry, and frankly, liked the fact that someone would and could get angry on his behalf. When he was done, Sirius was pacing and swearing like a sailor at the top of his voice. It seemed he wanted to smash something, but with nothing at hand he contented himself with pulling at his hair. When he finally calmed down enough, he asked Harry dangerously, "When do I get to kill them?"

"Calm down, old man. I have done worse things to them. Last time around, you had taught me a dementor curse for use in battles. I used it only once and never could again, in that timeline. I used it on them. Then I bought this house and have given Biggem, Goldhaul and Rubyclaw leave to destroy them financially. They have all become rather protective of me. Don't get angry- get even," he said with a hint of a grin.

"Damn! You sicced Goblins on them? Please tell me you didn't promise to pay them!"

"Alright, I won't tell you that," Harry rather nonchalantly replied.

Sirius held his head in his hands and then groaned comically. "Is it a bad sign if I don't really feel sorry for the Dursleys?"

"No!" They shared a laugh over that, more to diffuse the tension than anything else. Harry then continued with his story of the first year. He clarified that the facts would be from the point of view of the O.T. while his speculations would be from his or Cassiopeia's point of view. He told about the way the Dursleys had tried to stop him from going to Hogwarts. Harry had immediately taken a shining to the world of magic, and had thought of the people there as something quite akin to his heroes. He had thought of the Weasleys as a kindly family for taking a young orphan under their wing, and had immediately made friends with Ronald. He described the troll incident and his utter shame at being accomplice to the bullying. He narrated all the incidents as they happened, culminating in his defeat of wraith-Voldemort. He then speculated that it was all a test. The obstacles were designed as if to cater to first years. Sirius concurred with that. He told Sirius about Molly's show at King's Cross and how it now seemed an elaborate drama. Cassiopeia's speculation that they were probably doing their duty as Vassals was something Harry didn't truly agree with, though he had accepted it.

"You know, Pup, I think the whole matter is suspect. As an Auror, I can tell you that Molly's actions were worth sanctions. She was clearly breaching the Statute of Secrecy. Then again, why would she do that, unless she knew that someone would need that help? Hagrid might have not told you about the platform on Dumbledore's orders. He is your Vassal too. I remember James telling me about that. Was it some sort of conspiracy betwixt them? Nay, I know not, my child, but truth shall indeed see the light!"

"Bravo, bravo! Simply enchanting! I don't think it was. Put simply, Molly might have known that I knew nothing about my heritage, and so only wanted to do her duty as a Vassal. That is really one point that I don't know what to think. They are and were my friends, and it really makes me feel terrible to think any worse of them. And yet when I look at each of their actions cynically, I trust them lesser and lesser. Anyway, we will think about it later. Well the second year of both timelines is a much grimmer tale, godfather. When old Tommy boy was sixteen- that's fifty-one years ago- he opened the Chamber of Secrets."

"Hey I know that one. Aunt Dorea had told me about that. Some girl died. Her name was Miriam or Myrtle or something like that."

"Myrtle- her name was Myrtle Roberts. She was killed by the Monster in the Chamber." He summoned a piece of parchment and showed Sirius the Tom is Voldemort anagram. "That bastard was the son of a rich non-magical Tom Riddle and the squib daughter of the Most Insane and Most Inbred House of Gaunt. They were the last blood heirs of Salazar. So, anyway, Tom set this monster on the students and implicated Hagrid, of all people. Riddle got a Special Services to the school award. Anyway, that summer, he made his first Horcrux- a diary. He killed his father and grandparents that summer, but I am not sure whose death it was that he used. He gave that diary to Lucius Malfoy. Old Lucy wanted to bring Arthur Weasley and his Muggle Protection Act down, so he slipped that diary to the Weasley girl. I have to call her Ginny and all, but I trust her as far as I can throw Hagrid. The Horcrux possessed her, and got her to attack newbloods. She was finally made to go into the chamber by the part of Riddle in it. During the year, however, someone found out that I am a Parselmouth- which isn't entirely correct. I am a Beast Speaker."

"You are a-a Beast Speaker? Prongslet, don't you dare joke now! James was afraid that the Potter line was losing the gift!"

"I am, Padfoot. I gave enough evidence of that to Hagrid. Surely you can't discount that?"

"Damn!" swore Sirius, raking his hair with his hand. "Damn!" he swore again. "Harry, continue. I think I'll have too many questions later. Just tell me everything. This is becoming an extremely infuriating yet riveting tale for me."

"Huh? Oh. Well, when they found out that I am a Parselmouth, I was shunned, I was accused of being the Heir of Slytherin- which I am, incidentally- and no one ever spoke in my defence. Neville Longbottom and the Weasleys and Hermione were the only ones who truly believed me. The rest of the school came around, but not before Hermione was petrified. Truly, Sirius, I'd still say that I'd rather be hated than see Hermione that way."

Sirius noted that this Hermione had turned up again in the narrative, and he could see the same haunted look in Harry's eyes as he had seen in James' when a few Death Eaters had tried to... rough up Lily. He understood what wasn't being said. This was possibly a feisty girl who had taken Harry's heart. Sirius could have wagered that she fulfilled the four Bs of being the Lady Potter. Prongslet had gone a bit further and befriended her. He wasn't all like James, but he was a chip of the old block, after all. "Hey Pup! Continue now! Oh don't tell me you like this Hermione!" the former prisoner teased. He just wanted confirmation.

Harry blushed and looked away. "I probably did in the O.T. I certainly do now. I wasn't able to understand it then, more likely due to what those Dursleys did to me. But by the time I understood what the whole thing meant, you- you-" Harry broke down again, though only to uncomfortable bobs of the Adam's apple. When he had regained his composure, he continued tonelessly. "By the time I understood what it meant you died. I was going to ask you about it that summer. And then I was put back in Privet Prison. Then the **Weasleys** happened."

Sirius' face hardened at Harry's tone. More people had hurt his pup. They would pay. "What did they do?" he asked dangerously, pretty sure of what had happened.

"Molly Prewett, presumably, and her two little ones for sure, dosed us with Love Potions. We were, respectively with her children- I was with Ginevra and Hermione with Ronald. At least that is what my Reaper told me implicitly, though she never outright accused Molly. I haven't had any evidence, but I have been checking all my food all the time since I returned, surreptitiously."

"It runs in the Prewett family. It's one of the few things I ever agreed about with my unlamented mother. The Prewetts were really odd, all of them; well barring Fabian and Gideon. My mother said much more, but I am sure you can imagine that. You know, I think you should use this spell from the Black family Grimoire. Point your wand at my eyes and say, "Communico Memorias" as you think of all the years. I'll see the memories through your point of view. Lower your Occlumency shields if you have any."

Harry complied, and over the next hour and half he showed Sirius everything from the previous timeline in order. Both had agreed that a verbal transfer was tedious- they were being put off-track every now and then. Both had to sit facing each other during the process- it was very much like Legillimency, except here the caster willingly shared the memories with the subject, making it a voluntary process.

At the end of the whole time, Sirius just sat down in his chair and motioned for Harry to do the same. Sirius poured himself another glass of Firewhisky, and decided to allow his godson a sip too. In his totally unbiased opinion, Harry had won the right to do so. He had done his best in the face of severe impediments in his path by those who sought to control him. Harry had purposely not shown him anything of the year of the hunt. He wanted to be with Sirius when he would tell him about Regulus' heroics.

"You know, I can now understand why you hate Albus so much. You were simultaneously fighting two Dark Lords at once. Say what, kid, may I kill Albus, or do you have first dibs? And that bastard Snape- I want to kill him too!"

"I do. I can legally kill him. He is a treacherous Vassal. One Traitor's Judgement, and that's it. But I want to destroy him totally before that. He has to be painted as the ultimate Dark Lord. We can't do that before disposing off with Riddle and his minions. The public picture is such that Albus Dumbledore stands against the ways of Voldemort. Destroy him now, and we play into their hands. If we destroy Dumbledore along with Moldyshorts, we let him be an old war hero, but also make him relinquish his control. I can live with that, but I have a problem with the old man being remembered as a hero. As for Snape, I am open to any ideas for killing him. He was among those that murdered my paternal grandparents, told that Prophecy to Voldemort, and then, had the vile gall to slander my family and literally mind rape me!"

Sirius had gone white as a sheet. His great-aunt Dorea, who was James' mother, was the closest to a real mother that he'd ever known. Uncle Charlus was the person who inspired Sirius the most. Snivellus, who had already got Sirius after him for his hand in James' and Lily's death, as well as in his torture of Harry, was now a dead man walking. Snivellus and Albus Dumbledore were guilty of trying to kill the Potter family. And Sirius wouldn't let that happen.

"You can have Dumbledore. Snape is mine. I'LL KILL SNIVELLUS!" he roared. He bounded off as Padfoot to work off his rage. It was nearly an hour before he had calmed down enough to return. "Now, continue. We need to make plans for those two bastards. Do you have any?"

"You saw what happened at the end of the sixth year? The part I told you about- Snape's murder of Dumbledore? He was cursed by the Ring of the House of Gaunt. I suppose you know the story of The Three Brothers from The Tales of Beedle the Bard?"

"Yes. I've heard that load of old tosh-"

"Except that it isn't. It is true. Well the Master of Death part isn't but everything else is. I'll give you a hint. The third brother's second-last descendent was your best friend."

Sirius stared at Harry in confusion. He tried to remember the story. It was then that comprehension dawned on him. Connecting the dots quickly, Sirius blurted out, "NO BLOODY WAY!"

"Yes bloody way. I am the last Heir of Ignotus Peverell, the third brother, and that **_is_** ** _the_** cloak." He revealed the Peverell Ring to his Godfather. "The Gaunt Ring contained the Resurrection Stone. The ring was a Horcrux. That is Dumbledore's weakest point. I plan to send Dumbledore after that ring, and then put up Anti-Apparition and Anti- Portkey wards around the place. Dumbledore holds the Elder wand. And that in itself is a terrifying thing. I intend to destroy it with Gryffindor's sword. And, I intend to blood-adopt one of **_your and Neville's_** sons. That way the power of the Peverell family will remain within our three families only."

"Splendid! With a small hitch though- I am not sure I can have any sprogs after my stay in Chateau de Azkaban."

"We can take the matter to a healer Padfoot, and if not, we can take you to non-magical endocrinologists. They are healers that deal with the functioning of glands and stuff. I truly trust the non-magical world more than I'd ever trust the magical world. Once we get you free, we can turn to that. Now leaving your ability to sire pups aside, I want your opinions, theories and anything you want to say about what I showed you- and exclusively about things I was directly involved in. I have some theories and speculations of my own to tell you about the magical world in general."

Sirius took a deep breath and looked at Harry intently, before launching into his rant. "Well you know what I think of that first year. The whole year, just about everything that happened was a bloody set-up. You sussed that out yourself. My first instinct is to say that I simply don't want you trusting any of the Weasleys. Neville and Hermione, yes; any Weasley is a big NO! But things aren't so cut and dried. If you visibly ditch them for something they did in the month of never in the yer of nada, from the perspective of everyone but us, it will become too obvious. Plus they are your vassals. So it would be better to simply use a wait and watch policy. If you assert your position, they will become wary of doing anything like that.

"The other thing is that you have not revived your family's alliance. I can't believe that I never told you that in the O.T. But then again, I didn't tell you a lot of things. I could have had the goblins help prove my innocence, as Gringotts is a free Nation. Amnesty and asylum there before being interrogated by the Ministry was the way to go; it was the best logic that could be applied. What is really criminal is that none of the Alliance members themselves introduced themselves to you. You were purposely kept out of the loop, but they weren't and could have and should have looked out for you. Even Neville is guilty of that. I'll teach you the politics and introduce you to the principles of the Alliance later, remind me to do that if I don't. Was it Dumbledore probably keeping them all away? Possibly," he said with a shrug. "What's worse is that for a world which apparently was idolising you, nobody asked for you. Why did they not ask about your safety when they were reading stories about you? You just floundered through the first year, simply on the basis of whatever you felt like doing instinctively. It's just plain wrong.

"I am going to reserve my words about the second and third year for later, because you have made quite a few changes. We need to discuss those before I pass any judgement. The Triwizard Tournament was as much a farce as your first year. How could Dumbledore honestly not know about either Quirrel or Crouch? Was he an accessory to them? I don't honestly know. Did he use the whole business as an opportunity to control both of us? Absolutely; I would say he jumped at the opportunity. He could have taken you out of the competition and at worst, given you a detention for the prank, simply because it is impossible to forge a magical signature of a person: it corresponds to the intrinsic magic. By participating against the Dragon, you confirmed your participation. Then there was the fact that the competition was only for adults. They had effectively declared you an adult. I can't believe I didn't advise you to do that. But then again, I **_was_** living in a cave and eating rats. But to think that neither Minerva, nor Moony, nor the Goblins did anything is infuriating. A possible explanation is that Gringotts owls were blocked, if they had taken any interest at all. They are surly buggers anyway - it'd be a nice sport for them to see floundering wizards and witches. But that doesn't let up Moony or Tabby."

Harry nodded grimly at that. It was his point of view as well.

Sirius was skittish as he brought up something else. "Now there's this other thing. Did you ever give off vibes that you... you know... that you also... er... batted for the home team?"

"What?" Harry was very much puzzled. But at Sirius' rather flushed and embarrassed face, Harry understood and paled as he shouted, "NO!"

"Well then why was Ron the one you would sorely miss? It would've been Hermione obviously. It's the same with the way Hermione was allowed to go to Hogsmeade, but you weren't. Again, she was alone with Ronald. And really, the fried chicken club had its headquarters at Grimmauld Place? You weren't given any counselling after facing Voldemort, again Hermione was made to be alone with Weasley, and you were isolated like you had a disease. She was made the prefect with him. It is conditioning of the highest order. Why did you accept the ginger's apology? He really never seemed to be your or her friend, did he?"

"I realised that when I was in the place... in between life and death. I was just looking for a way for a clean break. But you say that I must keep them around... Well, anyway, I must admit that I did a very opportunistic manoeuvre. He always insults Hermione every now and then. She is my Protectorate, so I am honour bound to protect her, even against a verbal attack," Harry said with a smirk.

Sirius blinked. Then he roared with laughter. "Oh Bloody Hell! That is one good prank, right there!" They shared another round of laughter. "I solemnly attest that henceforth, Harry, son of James, the Marauder Prongs be inducted into the Hallowed Halls of Fame, and is the first Heir to the Marauders to join the ranks.

"Well with that out of the way, I am appalled that Moony fell in with what Albus did," pointing out something that he already had. "We need to free me, before we can free Moony. I was going to bring this up later, but now with all the things you have shown me, including my own appalling behaviour then, I think I must share my own apprehensions. You know that I was an Auror don't you?"

"Yes I do. In fact obstruction of the work of an Auror was one of the charges I drew up to sue the Wizengamot. Wait a minute." He took out the notebook in which he had written the charges. Sirius cast it a glance and nodded.

"I'll check that later. Well, as I was setting up my shields, I realised something. My oaths as your Godfather would have superseded my oaths to Dumbledore. Why would I leave you with Hagrid of all people? When your safety was the main concern, why would I give you to somebody who can't use a wand? Whatever the situation, we had been trained to keep our head in any situation. In fact, we had simulations where we lost, or accidentally killed a team member or were ourselves dying. Why would I lose my mind then of all times? I was a well-trained Auror. I had taken down eighty six Death Eaters. Why and how did a mere clerk in the Department of Magical Transportation and Regulation get the better of me?" It truly puzzled Sirius.

"Extend this to your memories. Why, once we knew each other well, would I keep your heritage from you? Indeed, why didn't **I** approach Biggem? I showed a marked revulsion towards my family, but I never felt revulsion towards my duties as Lord presumptive. I fully intended to change the nature of my House. James, Frank and Edgar Bones and I had come to the conclusion that posturing as Dark or Light was pointless. At the end of the day, what mattered was whether you could bring home enough gold, fairly and legally, and without harming anyone else. Prejudice of any sort was Dark, _is_ Dark. At the same time, just bandying about some godforsaken ideals and values which end up hurting you, doesn't make you Light- it makes you foolish. Why did I never tell you this? All I saw myself doing was hiding. Why didn't Dumbledore give me a trial under special dispensation as the Chief Warlock? How were three illegal animagi allowed inside the wards, without Dumbledore, as the Headmaster and therefore one of the Ward-masters, being notified? It reeks of something terribly foul, I tell you that. When you first contacted me, I wasn't sure why you seemed to despise Albus. Now I wholeheartedly share your views."

"Indeed. I would think that your death, after which he told me that thrice-damned Prophecy, and his own, were ways to guilt me into sacrificing somehow- to make me feel as if I had nothing to live."

"That's just what I was thinking. Then there were those infernal lessons. Let's just suffice it to say that he did nothing at all. He hindered you more than Voldemort did."

"Pretty much so," agreed Harry. "What bugs me heavily is this. He had proof that Voldemort had made more than one Horcrux in the second year itself. Had it not been so, there would have been some reaction from the Dark Mark. He had Snivellus as his little pet, who had told him that his mark was getting darker. That clearly told him that Voldemort was alive and that he had more Horcruxes. Why not start looking for them then? I remember reading in the Black Library while we were hiding at Grimmauld Place when we started the hunt that each Horcrux destroyed reduced the creator's power. Why waste time protecting a stupid prophecy when even two or three destroyed Horcruxes could have changed the tide of the war?"

"Quite true, that is. The actions were all downright inexplicable. And what was everyone doing, stunning, for Merlin's sake? A reductor curse, a bone-breaker or something along those lines to not kill but to put those shits out of commission was necessary. It was all an inept business. The whole war was fought very unprofessionally, in my opinion," groused Sirius.

"That it was, Padfoot."

They both sat pensively for some time. Harry understood what Sirius was driving at. He could point out the glaring flaws in his own actions. One way to explain it would be to say that in hindsight everything was obvious. But Harry stopped to think. In every case, he realised, Dumbledore was in contact with Sirius before they could talk. Was it another way of ensuring his compulsions and manipulations?

Sirius was seething. How much had the Pup endured? It was a miracle that he hadn't yet gone around the bend- or worse, become a Dark Lord himself. He felt irrationally ashamed that he had failed his godson dismally in the other timeline. "What have you changed?" he asked.

"Ah yes. I never told you that. Did I? Well first things first, I got that basilisk rendered and-"

"WHAT BASILISK?" Sirius' roar made Harry look at him questioningly.

"What do you mean by that? I showed you my memories, didn't I? What were you watching?" He repeated the whole of the second year for Sirius' benefit.

"You f-fought that? Are you serious?" stuttered Sirius.

"No, you are," smirked Harry.

"Shut up, Prongs... let!"

Harry understood what had happened. While Sirius had otherwise behaved with Harry as Harry and not as if he were James, the last comment brought up memories for him. Harry knew better than to pursue that. "Sorry, old dog."

Sirius massaged his temples and then the bridge of his nose as he fought to drive away the images still in his mind. Azkaban had made it difficult for him to retain things for a long time. "Why did you go alone? Wait, don't answer that. I saw what you did..."

"What? You aren't going to blow your top? No rants?"

"What difference will it make? You went and battled a Troll, a basilisk, a swarm of dementors, which you faced incidentally when you went back in time to save me, faced a dragon, battled Voldemort five times in person. Not exactly anything I can say, is there? So where were we? Yes. You got the basilisk rendered..."

"... and it fetched me seventeen and a half million galleons." Sirius whistled at that. Harry told him about the bequests, including the one for Moony. To say Sirius was impressed was an understatement. Harry really had used his money well. But he also had gone overboard a bit.

"You really shouldn't have given Moony that much. He will consider it charity. While it is in a way, you should've given him a tenth of that. Well, what's done is done. But all things considered, have you thought what to do about Moony? He was free. He has always had good relations with people, so he could have called in favours to find you and come meet you. He didn't." It all came back to the other true remaining Marauder. It was obvious. Harry was a baby, so he couldn't exactly be convinced. But Moony was supposed to believe Sirius, or at least hear him out. In the werewolf's defence, however, he was grieving for the man _he_ thought to be the true Marauder.

"Yes. I considered that. I got him to apply for the DADA post again. He is too much under Dumbledore's thumb. I won't let him in easily. Will Dumbledore use him to get me on his side? I've no doubt that he'll. I'll let Moony in, only when he realises that things shouldn't be taken at face value. I'll help him on full moons, but I won't talk to him beyond that, at least not till you are free," Harry told him decisively.

And there spoke the kid. Sirius was the greatest and coolest person alive ever, to Harry. Or so the older man thought. "Isn't that a bit harsh? After all that Dumbledore did for Moony, I doubt he can go against the man," Sirius argued.

"Did Dumbledore really do anything for Moony, really? I don't think so. It reeks of opportunism."

"Huh? I don't understand."

"Tell me, how many werewolves are out there?"

"Best estimate I have is close to three to four hundred."

"How many of them are younger than Moony?"

"At least half of them must be."

"Why then was Moony the **_only_** werewolf, **_ever_** , to gain entry into Hogwarts?"

That brought an end to all of Sirius' arguments. "You d-don't think that Moony was _groomed_ as a spy among the werewolves by Albus, do you?"

"There is no other explanation. Would it have been too much to have at least one werewolf each year? Why was Moony the only recipient of that benevolence?"

Sirius, after all that he had heard and seen, quickly came around to Harry's point of view. It was obvious. It was way too obvious. He started swearing colourfully, allowing Harry a glimpse at the hothead that Sirius had made his reputation as. When he finally calmed down, he said, "Why won't you free Moony first?"

"Why should I? Moony never tried to find me. He took to drink, instead of badgering Dumbledore. In my eyes, he has to earn his redemption. I gave him money only because he was Dad's and your friend. And also..." Harry stopped realising that he hadn't told Sirius about the year of the hunt.

"What, Harry?" Sirius asked, gently.

"He... well why don't I show you the last year?" He didn't wait for the answer, and just opened his mind to his godfather, contrary to his initial intention. This he played in something quite akin to slow motion. The images literally burned into Sirius. The fights against enemies, the fights between friends, Snape's memories, Moony and Tonks getting together, their deaths, Ted's death, the absolutely idiotic rescue operation for Harry, little Teddy being named Harry's godson, the yearlong tenure on the run, Weasley's betrayal, Bellatrix torturing Hermione, the trio breaking into Gringotts; the list went on and on. But it was Regulus' selfless act that brought tears to the eyes of the stoic Lord presumptive.

When it ended, Sirius realised why Harry had _that_ look in his eyes. He had seen the things Harry had seen, and now couldn't truly understand how Harry remained sane. He engulfed Harry in a very fatherly hug. "Regulus... I thought he died a Death Eater. He did the right thing, in the end." He sunk his head into his hands. There wasn't much to say. Between Harry, Lily, James and Regulus, he had a family to be proud of. He may have lost two brothers and a woman who set him on the right path, but he still had one of them left to him. "I am sorry, my Pup. I failed you. I failed you when you needed me the most, by not being there to help. I was probably still remembering the Bella I remembered through my childhood, the one that wanted to be a Runic Mistress and the Head of Ravenclaw after Flitwick. How did she go mad? She killed me? And that left you to bear so many hardships. Forgive me Pup, please..."

"Shut up!" Harry hissed.

"Harry...?"

"I said shut up! You lost out in a battle. You did not put your love before me, Padfoot. You did not try and change your past. I killed my godson. I could have confronted Voldemort earlier, Padfoot. I killed them! I KILLED MOONY AND HIS WIFE! I KILLED MY GODSON, PADFOOT, JUST BY COMING BACK IN TIME! I AM THE MOST SELFISH, UNGRATEFUL BRAT THAT EVER EXISTED!" He sat on the floor, hugging his knees to his chest, as he lamented forlornly for the godson he had sworn to protect, for the son of Remus Lupin, whom he had abandoned in the future that never was.

Sirius saw the outburst for what it was. It was similar to what he himself had experienced when he had woken in Azkaban. He at least had the consolation that his Godson was alive, if not well. Harry had no chance to know whether or not his Godson even had a chance to be born at all. He hadn't killed anyone directly, but Teddy would hang heavily on Harry's conscience.

"Prongslet, what did your Reaper say? Don't try and affect the natural order of things. If the old wolf and our cousin are likely to get married again, I'll make sure that they name you the godfather to at least one of the cubs. So, don't worry. And you aren't being selfish. By coming back, you have ensured that so many people will live. We will make it right. We are in this together, son. I'll always be with you." He slung his arm around Harry and gave him a gentle squeeze, which Harry returned. Harry's doubts hadn't been resolved by any means, it was always going to be a case of work in progress.

"Pup, now that you have told me everything, I must give you a dose of my own paranoia. Firstly: Snivellus. I saw and observed as an Auror would. He was there for quite some time in the Shrieking Shack. He realised that it was Moony and I. He wanted to get us killed. He forgot the Wolfsbane Potion on purpose. Then during that Department of Mysteries fiasco, he clearly showed that he was fully Voldemort's little boy. What possessed you to _fly_ _ **Thestrals**_ of all things to the Ministry? If you really wanted to do that, why not stun and bind Umbitch and her minions and use her own Floo? Don't tell me that you couldn't have done that- you fought Death Eaters, so their inept spawn would have been no big problem to deal with. You took roughly four hours to go there. How didn't a single Order member reach in time? Why was the Ministry so suspiciously deserted? There are so many things of importance stored in that place that someone is always on guard duty- several people, in fact. Death Eaters managed to reach in time; so that just goes to prove that they already knew that you had gone, or were going to the Ministry. It was only when the fight started that the Order arrived. Ergo, it was only when the fight started was the Order informed. That was Snivellus' work, no doubt.

"Then there is the point about the Taboo. I always called him Mouldy-shorts for a reason. The Taboo had been in effect in the first war. By saying Voldemort's name, many people might have felt that you were rubbing your survival in their face. Call him Riddle. Dumbledore was already setting you up to die or to be caught and killed that way. Weasel boy was telling you to respect the name. And that was right after he did whatever he did in Yaxley's office. **_He stopped you bloody every single time that either you tried using Voldemort's name, when you were not in Grimmauld Place. In effect, he didn't want to be caught. He betrayed you before the hunt, in a way._** He left you when the picnic time on the hunt was over- that is, only after he left you without food. In fact he has been betraying you right from the start. Why was he somehow always getting in the way of your studies? If you even miraculously survived the final battle, you'd still have to rely on being Harry Potter. That is personality shaping at its worst.

"And I am disappointed. You never took Hermione's or in fact anyone's side when those Weasels bullied anyone. We never tested our prank stuff on innocent juniors. The twins are twisted. I want you to break away from those fakers as soon as you can.

"You need a real parent now, not Molly fucking Weasley. You had a mother. Her name was Lily Evans Potter. And your father was James Potter. What you have now is a godfather who has sworn to help you with the correct decisions. I'll advice, I'll suggest, but I won't decide for you. The Weasleys seemed to me to be closet pureblood bigots. Why else would they behave with the only muggles they know as if they were some sort of curiosities in a museum? Then there was the fact that little Weasel knew about the Dragons, and let you go in without knowing about it. He is a traitor, plain and simple."

Each word from Sirius was impaling itself in Harry's consciousness, causing him further pain. He really couldn't trust these people. He could understand where Sirius was coming from, and was rather grateful for that. Here was real, hard, father and son talk that Harry needed.

Sirius wasn't even done however. "Then there is that girl. She called Luna, Loony. That was in spite of literally growing up with her. She called the poor Fleur girl names. I'd say she is a vindictive bitch, but well you're a pup, so I won't. As I said before, my first instinct is to ask you to stay away from every bloody single Weasley! But you'll be better served if you keep them where you can see them."

"You know Padfoot, I can't call you Dad, but you are supposed to be that for me in every other way. I never had it this way before you know!" Harry told Sirius, hugging his godfather again.

They sat like that for a long time. Sirius could feel the tension slowly leaving Harry. Now was the time to be godfather and fun uncle simultaneously. "Say, Pup, your memories were there, all and well, but I never saw anyone give you 'The Talk'. Now as you need a wife for each line, it is necessary. As your godfather, I believe the responsibility falls to me, particularly now that you have set your sights on a girl..."

He didn't have time to complete, as Harry froze, then transformed and bolted. Sirius smiled deviously. He quickly followed suit and chased after his Pup. Merlin knew the kid needed to loosen up a bit.

* * *

Just as Harry had shared his life story with Sirius, giving the older man a proper peek into the inscrutable mind of his godson, Sirius too had returned the favour. For every instance of abuse by the Dursleys, there were the actions of Walburga Black. He had known the woman only as a demented portrait. Sirius had had the misfortune of her living company for eleven years of his life. Her madness, which had permeated into her due to inbreeding, just as it had into the Gaunts, had extended to using the Cruciatus on Sirius. His father was a distant person, as was expected of all pureblood Heads of families. He had attempted to protect his sons, but it was too little, and quite often, too late. What had really surprised him was Bellatrix. She had been extremely protective of Sirius. Even when he had been sorted into Gryffindor, she had helped him on the sly- after all, a Ravenclaw and a Gryffindor meeting up wasn't frowned upon. She was an intriguing study of contrasts. The year after her NEWTs, the year after Sirius' third, a very terrible change came over her. Harry wasn't sure what to make of that. Was it just a coincidence that she had been married to Lestrange just a week prior?

His friendship with James, Remus and Peter brought out Sirius from his shell. He hadn't been repressed like Neville, but he had been drifting directionless for his entire childhood, aggravating his mother with blatant rebellion. When he had achieved the pinnacle of the same by getting sorted into Gryffindor, he had plain broken free of the binds of the 'Dark family' ideals. Harry had only seen his father targeting Snape on the train itself. What Snape hadn't shown was the fact that when James had offered to help Lily with her trunk, Snape had displayed a blatantly possessive streak, and had been very rude to James. He had then gone on to make not a few uncharitable remarks about James to Lily. All through their Hogwarts career, Snape had been in the group of thugs that had gone on to be the cruelest Death Eaters. He had been something quite akin to Piers, Dudley's friend. He was the kind to stay in the background and play sneak attacks, and plan retribution. Even the confrontation after the OWLs had been brought on by an attack on a younger Gryffindor girl.

It disgusted Harry. Even as he lay dying, Snape had lied. The spell that Sirius and Harry had used prevented fabrication of memories. Yet, were they all not true, Harry would still have believed Sirius and Remus over Snivellus any day of the week and twice on Sundays. Any doubts that Harry might have harboured regarding the fate of Severus Snape had crashed and burned. He was a Death Eater, and as such was just a creature that needed to be put to death. He knew that his mother would have never forgiven Snape. He was a person who felt immense joy in the suffering of others. He was just as sadistic a monster as Voldemort.

* * *

The open channel between the two had led to several barriers falling. They seemed dead on their feet when they were finally done. Sirius decided to teach Harry several physical feature changing spells. Sirius had instantly got a green Mohawk and big handlebars along with hazel eyes for his efforts. They had gone fine dining with Sirius getting several disapproving looks and glares. Both were under the impression that such antics would lighten the other's heart, and that made them both happier.

The day had ended on a sour note, however. Sirius had become extremely agitated, and had started getting violent, in the absence of alcohol. It had scared Harry quite a lot, reminding him of Vernon. Harry simply stunned Sirius, put him to bed, and shrank away. The next day, he had to eat burnt toast, underdone bacon and a rather dismal set of scones, which comprised of Sirius' apology.

Thereafter, they actually worked together to do the house up as they liked it. Harry had to hand it to Sirius. When he didn't need to rebel, Sirius was rather tasteful. He procured several Arsenal posters and was about to put them up with permanent sticking charms, but Harry cautioned that it would be a bad idea if a player decided to transfer to another team. Harry didn't know about this fixation with football however.

"I blame Lily for that. Her father was a rather rabid Spurs fan, and they lived up Seven Sisters Road before they moved to Birmingham. She was so bugged by his incessant Spurs madness that she rebelled as an eleven year old by supporting Arsenal. As luck would have it, Arsenal won the League and Cup double in 1971, the year we started Hogwarts. She was hooked, and naturally, your father, who fell for her charms, immediately got hooked too. The rest of us behaved like good little minions and followed his lead. But we actually supported the club. James had plans to move to Islington if he lived through the war. I remember he had bought a small home there, just a little way from the stadium and also near enough to my place. Sadly that didn't happen," Sirius reminisced.

For Harry, it was another link to his parents, though he had never expected it to be football. It was amusing to know their non-magical interests. But even beyond that he could understand Sirius' frustration the last time around even more. With Grimmauld Place situated right in the Borough of Islington, not being able to go to something where he could connect with the happiest time of his life, and having to sit around feeling useless must have grated on his nerves. Harry understood another facet of Sirius.


	22. Chapter 22

**Meetings and Decisions**

After their marathon confession and memory sharing day, Sirius and Harry started feeling decidedly lighter, and freer with the other than they had ever felt before. Indeed, for Harry, it was easier to communicate with Sirius compared to the fourth and fifth year of the O.T. Each now knew where they stood with the other, and that saw their trust building faster. This was chiefly for Sirius' benefit. He had to appreciate the secret Harry had entrusted him with. The knowledge of the future was a verbal nuclear weapon. The amount of trust Harry had shown made Sirius want to reciprocate.

Sirius had started to groom Harry to play the part of a pureblood Lord. It comprised of a severe control on facial expressions, as well as tone. He taught several rules of engagement and combat. He made him remember every single way that a crime could be perpetuated against the Lord of an Ancient and Most Noble Lord. It was very important, as it could be legally used to take down enemies and opponents. Manners of greeting other Heirs and Lords were also part of the lessons. Sirius also took great pleasure in teaching Harry History of Magic and Glenskrad- both proved to be very adept at learning and teaching.

Harry taught Sirius the way of Animagus transformations. Sirius had started trying for the transformation into a lion to accentuate his Gryffindor status, while Harry practiced the Dragon and Firewing while deciding to study yet another new form. The part which led to squabbles and amusing situations was the two sending Stinging Hexes at each other at random; the main intention being for each to increase their speed, agility, accuracy and an acute understanding of their surroundings. It led to both starting to feel shifts in magic around them as spells whizzed towards them. To prove the theory, they started experimenting with different spells. By the end, of the summer, both could predict different spells depending on how magic seemed to shift around them.

It was a real homely feeling for Harry. It was what he had imagined things to be when Sirius had told him that they could live together. Harry though, went behind Sirius' back to contact Andromeda Tonks. He had been debating whether or not to approach her, particularly as he was harbouring her cousin whom even she considered to be an escaped convict. He would have to fight an uphill battle to convince her. He could have procured another Healer, but secrecy was of paramount importance. He had held off for a week, but Sirius had often taken to behaving like Gollum or Kreacher when he would lose his sense of self. Then there were the nightmares when he would wake and scream for **_Harry's_** parents or grandparents. It worried Harry no end, and so, finally, under the pretext of discussing about the James and Lily Potter Memorial Institute for Research in Lycanthropy, and asking for private tutoring for potions, he invited her to Marauders' Place personally. He had written to her two days before he went, and had gotten a terse and circumspect response.

* * *

When the door was opened by a rather sleep-ridden Nymphadora, Harry had retrospectively felt like an idiot. He cursed himself inwardly for that. The last time he had seen of this woman was her dead body, just half an hour before he had gone to the other place; and just two hours after he had chastised her for leaving her son- his godson to rush into battle at Moony's side. He stood gawking at her like an idiot which prompted her to raise an eyebrow questioningly.

Catching himself in time, he made a great show of being star-struck (though he was actually close to that- Dora had been a really good friend to him and Hermione). "You- You are Nymphadora Tonks! You are a rumour mill legend at Hogwarts!"

As a metamorphmagus, Dora had endured several derogatory rumours and male (and occasionally, even female) fantasies. This punk rubbed her the wrong way as soon as he saw her, and Dora was most definitely not a morning person. "That I am. And you are...? Wait; don't tell me. Blimey! MUM IT'S HARRY POTTER! Yeah, there; I recognised you, oh destroyer of He-who-must-not-be-named," she retorted in a snarky manner.

"But... but you don't understand! You are She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named! Your showdown with Snape is the stuff of legends! It is said that you are the only one Snape ever feared! You..."

"That's quite enough, Mr. Potter." Andromeda Tonks' aristocratic, authoritative tone cut through their conversation.

"Mrs. Tonks," said Harry, bowing deferentially as Sirius and Madam Longbottom had taught him. Andromeda raised a dainty eyebrow. This was an acknowledgement of the fact that she was once a daughter of House Black. "It is a pleasure to make you acquaintance, Ma'am."

Andromeda smiled thinly. "As am I, Mr. Potter."

"Please Ma'am, I'd prefer it if you could go past the formalities and call me Harry. It would not do for cousins, albeit distant to stand such formality. I will of course not presume, and will continue calling you Mrs. Tonks."

'So this boy knows,' mused Andromeda. "Indeed Harry. I read through your letter, and also the things regarding the James and Lily Potter Memorial Institute for Research on Lycanthropy and your past potions lessons. I have to say, the disappointment that I felt when my daughter, whom you have so charmingly christened She-Who-Must-Not Be-Named, harboured the hopes of becoming an Auror has not abated. Mr. Snape may be a highly revered Potions Master, but that by no means makes him a good Professor. I generally do not criticise my peers, but some people..." she huffed and sighed. Harry was thankful. In the previous timeline, he hadn't known any interaction between any of the Tonkses and Snivellus. At least, there wasn't any love lost between them.

"The only question is where you'll practice brewing. I do not have access to a brewing lab, and therefore, unless you have access to any such facilities, I'd say that we are at an impasse."

"I believe that I have that covered, Mrs. Tonks. It was one of the principal reasons as to why I requested to be allotted a little time of yours. Would it be possible for you to inspect the same? I would also appreciate suggestions for the stores."

'He has prepared' commended Andromeda mentally. "I am amenable to the inspection of the premises. Shall we?" she asked, moving towards the fireplace.

"Indeed. Please listen carefully, Ma'am. The Marauders' Place can be found at #2, 4, 6, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, in Surrey. The Floo name is The Marauders' Place, and the password is Thunderbird."

Andromeda was a bit apprehensive about the whole idea, more so, given the fact that the location was hidden under the Fidelius. But, whatever the reason, she had made a deal and would not renege on it. As a Black, she was notoriously paranoid and thorough before agreeing to any such deal, but once she did, she would hold fast on to it. As she appeared in a swirl of emerald fire, she felt as if she was abandoning caution to the very fire, and was going to get embroiled in something very big. With practised grace, she exited into a room that specifically housed two fireplaces, with a minimalist seating arrangement. She had to admit, as she waited for her host to follow, that whatever she could see of the house was rather tastefully yet simplistically done. It was just a few seconds later that Harry arrived, as usual making an acquaintance of the floor yet again.

Andromeda made a terrific attempt to fight off the smirk that adorned her face, but ended up failing at that. In spite of herself, she muttered, "So much like Lily! Any form of magical travel was a big enemy of hers." She hadn't bargained for Harry hearing that.

"It's not just the Floo. Portkeys, enchanted cars, just name it; except for a broom, I am pretty sure all forms of magical travel hate me!" whined Harry as he brushed off soot from his clothes.

Andromeda couldn't help it. She laughed lightly; a tinkling, musical sound that Harry had heard for the first time. That was not a big deal, as he had met the woman in very dangerous circumstances and that too only once. He was also forcibly reminded of the fact that he had called her Bellatrix. Right now, he couldn't decide what to think of that. Harry was forced out of his reverie by Andromeda prompting him regarding the Potions lab. Over the next hour, the two discussed the Potions lab, lab stores, additional charms for safety and general upkeep, as well as going over lesson plans so that Harry would be able to take the OWLs at the end of his third year. They decided between themselves that Harry would learn over the summer, and he would bring himself up to speed with the first two years of a real, good, proper, honest-to-God potions education. Then, over the year, he would be taught every weekend for six hours each to help him with the third, fourth and fifth years' syllabi.

"These plans are all well and good, Harry, but there is one thing that you have not yet addressed. It is unlikely that Snape will allow you to practise under me in his dungeons," Andromeda pointed out.

Harry had to concede was true. He was downcast for a moment, but perked up immediately: there was the Room of Requirement that was waiting to be used. Andromeda marvelled at the story, and when he told her that Dumbledore only knew of it in passing, she was convinced of its existence as also its secrecy. When they were done and agreed, Andromeda told him to get two books, 'A Compendium of Potion ingredients' and 'The Basics of Brewing: The What, Why, When, Which, How, Where of Potion Making'. Apparently, these two books gave a complete explanation regarding the various potion ingredients and how each method of preparation affected the ingredients and also the potion itself.

About an hour or so later, they retired into the sitting room. "Mrs. Tonks, may I be so forward, as to extend your invitation for lunch? There are two more matters of great importance to discuss, each of which I am very sure lie very close to your heart." Harry could literally see her suspicion-meter rising rapidly.

"It would depend on the nature of those matters. I would not participate in anything illegal or dangerous."

"Indeed not, Mrs. Tonks. The matter at hand is regarding a patient, for whom I need your discreet and professional services as a Healer."

"And who might this patient be?" Andromeda asked with a raised eyebrow.

"The patient is my godfather Ma'am. He is my **_ritually sworn_** godfather. His name is Sirius Black..."

"WHAT?"

"Please Mrs. Tonks, do calm down. You may have heard about his escape. That's not entirely true. I broke him out of Azkaban..." he faltered as Andromeda drew a wand at him.

"What is the meaning of this Potter? I will not be in any hare-brained scheme to help that cousin of mine. He went over to the other side..."

"SILENCE!" roared Harry. "Have you not considered my words, Mrs. Black-Tonks? Sirius couldn't ever have betrayed my parents. He is my ritually sworn godfather. He was not the Secret-Keeper." Harry calmed down and looked at Andromeda with beseeching eyes. "Please, Mrs. Tonks, please help Sirius. I have all sorts of proofs ready to help exonerate him. Every proof is irrevocable. Please trust me. I have been trying to help him, but I can't combat the lingering effects of the dementors. Please trust him. I had hoped that you'd be happy. After all, Mr. Tonks is our legal advisor..."

"You had told Ted?"

"Yes. I had compiled a list of different charges against the Wizengamot for his perusal."

Andromeda stared at Harry. Ted was helping her cousin. He hadn't told her. **_He hadn't told her!_** She breathed hard. "What is the irrevocable proof of his innocence?" It wasn't a request, it was an order.

"I hope you have no aspersions regarding the integrity of Goblins?" At her nod, he continued, "The Black, and Potter Family Account Managers, Biggem and Goldhaul helped me arrest Peter Pettigrew. He is in their custody."

There was a long stunned silence. Andromeda glared at Harry, who slowly started to fidget under her unnerving attention. At last Andromeda broke it with a harsh whisper. "Please tell me that you are serious."

"No, that's my godfather," Harry replied cheekily and immediately regretted it.

"Shut up, you impudent little brat! Has the company of that fool addled your brains too?" she scolded. "Wait, don't answer that. You really have Pettigrew? How is it possible? He was dead wasn't he?"

"You are a healer, Ma'am. You tell me. In an explosion, where the body parts of twelve non-magical people were found strewn at the site, is it possible to find **_only one finger,a very neatly cut finger at that,_** of Peter? Did it never strike to you as being odd? Sirius, my dad and Peter were all illegal animagi. Sirius' form, like mine is the Grim. Peter was- _is_ a rat. I found him, and have him in a Gringotts' cellar."

Andromeda silently sank into the chair she had been sitting in. She leaned back and blankly stared at the ceiling. At long last, she turned back to Harry and asked a question that completely stumped him. "Why didn't you contact Amy?"

"Amy?"

"Lady Amelia Bones; she is..."

"... Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, I know. What do you think her reaction would be?"

"She would probably hug the stuffing out of you. She was betrothed to Sirius with the Line Continuation option. His other betrothed, Marlene McKinnon, who was to be Lady Black, was killed sometime during the last war. Her body was never found."

"That utter imbecile, stupid, idiotic wanker, Sirius Black! He's been around for a week now, and he decides not to mention this little fucking fact!" Harry grumbled under his breath. Andromeda unfortunately caught that.

"Mind your language, young man!" she chastised. "I can see that Sirius is becoming a bad influence on you already! Now, enough talk! Take me to that man-child." They walked side by side to the room where Dobby was guarding a stunned Sirius. Harry was not surprised to see the maternal look in Andromeda's eyes when she looked at Sirius. Harry could understand that.

"What has been the problem with him?" she asked Harry.

"Several problems; he has short lapses in his memory, then there are bad dreams which cause him to wake up screaming for mum and dad and also for grandmum and granddad. He is worried he won't sire any pups. We are also reasonably sure that someone, presumably Albus Dumbledore, has messed with his mind. Then there is general malnutrition, and lack of emotional control. Sirius has been having small bursts of accidental magic every now and then too."

"That's quite a list," she replied as she waved a wand over Sirius for a basic cursory check up. "What have you been doing to help him?"

Harry narrated the entire process of breaking Sirius out of Azkaban, including the mind-link and the Happiness Hampers. He even showed her one. She appreciated the steps. For an untrained but powerful wizard, Harry had taken good steps. He then told her the diet, which included full meals thrice a day, built slowly over the week. He, however, complained that Sirius had to be force-fed his fruits and vegetables, causing her to smile. He also apologised for not calling her soon. For one, she would have been under surveillance as she was his cousin. For another, Sirius was resisting all attempts to reason with him. Andromeda could accept that; Sirius had always been a stubborn kid.

"Should I wake him now?" Harry asked her. At her nod, he blasted Sirius on the forehead with a very concentrated jet of water.

Sirius let out a long, drawn out, strangled yell, before looking around wildly. He saw Harry inching away, and immediately bounded across the room to him. "Prongs!" he roared. "I am going to have your spotted stag hide you idiot! What were you doing shooting water at me?" They played an odd game of chase, as Andromeda sat amused looking on as an escaped prisoner chased after his godson, thinking that the boy was his friend. Just as they were about to escape through the door, Harry turned around sharply and hid behind Andromeda on reflex. Sirius made to chase after James (Harry), when he saw the woman he was hiding behind.

For a long time, the two cousins held a battle of wills, trying to out-stare the other. Finally Sirius had to concede defeat. "Andromeda," he acknowledged tonelessly.

"Sirius," she replied with equal fervour.

And then, without warning, Sirius went up to her and hugged her as if his life depended on it. "I missed you a lot, Andi."

"And I you, Sirius," she replied. He had always been the naughty little brother for her and Bella before the events of the last war, particularly Bella's marriage. They stayed like that for a minute before Sirius turned away with suspiciously shiny eyes. Suddenly his head jerked up. "How come you are here, Andi?" he harshly asked. "This place is secure. Harry's the secret keeper. When did you meet? TELL THE TRUTH!"

"Calm down Sirius," Andromeda scolded him. She spied Harry frantically gesturing to her to not implicate him. She nodded. "I suppose Harry told you that Ted's firm is handling your case? Well, Ted told me, and I wrote to Harry. I realised that you wouldn't be too well. I was worried about your health, and so was Harry. I am here as your Healer too, Sirius."

"Oh." He looked at Harry angrily for a moment, while also fixing him a filthy glare. Harry defiantly glared back. He was not going to be cowed down by Sirius, especially not when he was working for Sirius' welfare.

"I called you Prongs, didn't I, Prongslet?" Sirius asked, rubbing his face with his hands.

"Aye, you did lad," Andi answered. "Don't be too hard on the kid. He is trying to help. I believe you, and so does he. We are going to make you presentable for court and public life, Sirius. Let us help you."

Sirius moved towards the window, staring hard away from his cousin and godson. He felt as if Harry had betrayed him, yet, he could understand the worry that prompted Harry to do so. Ted was working to prove his innocence, so Andi knowing wouldn't cause trouble. There was nothing he could do now, short of modifying Andy's memory. He sighed.

"Alright, you can be my Healer. But you have to check Harry too. That's my only condition."

"What's the matter with him? He seems alright to me," Andromeda replied, eyeing both godfather and godson with not a little apprehension.

Sirius grinned at Harry and taunted, "Turnabout is fair play, godson mine!" He then pointed Harry's Holly and Phoenix feather wand at Andromeda's eyes and incanted, "Communico Memorias!" just as Harry yelled "NO!" Harry realised that there was nothing he could do once the spell started its work. For an hour, Harry watched do stare into each other's eyes without blinking. Slowly, Andromeda started reacting. At first it was a moaned "NO!" and then screams, and before long she was no longer a daughter of the House of Black, but a furious, angry woman letting lose a string of verbal obscenities. When it ended, she looked at Harry with really tearful eyes.

"May I go and put Dumbledore and the Dursleys under the Cruciatus till they all become vegetables?"

Harry looked at her incredulously before responding. "As much as I would like that, may I have a moment with my godfather? We will be back in a trice." Not waiting for an answer, he dragged of Sirius, erected the normal spells that Hermione used to place around their tent during the hunt. "What was that for? Did you show her the future?"

"Many things I am, you little git, but an idiot I am not. And as for the Dursleys' treatment, which was what I showed her, it is heinous. Worse still, it will not help your exercises. I realised when I looked through your memories that your childhood injuries weren't properly healed. You are following a health regimen but without proper bones, it will be worthless- harmful even."

Harry realised that Sirius was behaving as a doting Godfather implicitly. He just gave the older man his version of the 'puppy dog eyes' and hugged him. "I am sorry Padfoot. It's just that I was worried that she would feel pity for me, or that I tricked her into working for the James and Lily Potter Memorial Institute for Research on Lycanthropy if you even showed her a glimpse of the future. I still feel guilty about my godson, you know."

"I understand that, and I understand your part about pity too. As you know, I know that better than anyone else. I forgive you. But please be quite a bit less impetuous. And don't ever give me any version of the puppy dog eyes- they don't work on this dog," he said with a hint of a grin.

Harry cancelled the charms and spells as the two returned to face a severely disapproving Andromeda Tonks nee **_Black_**. "I take it that you haven't been taught the ethics of polite society?" she asked with the barest hints at a frown. "Of course, I can't really expect Sirius to be able to do that, but I would have hoped that at least at school you would have some guidance." Sirius looked properly unabashed at that. Pureblood ethics he was teaching the Prongslet, but this was Andi! "Well it is just as well that we are all family here, yes you too, Harry. But it is otherwise impolite to leave the guests by themselves. I believe this is another thing apart from potions that I need to teach you?" Harry merely nodded.

"Now, I understand that you are trying to recuperate from the treatment of those...muggles," she spat, venom regarding them palpable. "I think that you have inferior bone density due to improper growth conditions. I am going to vanish your defective bones- and re-grow them. Your muscles are not strong enough. They need healing."

"And there was the Horcrux too..." Sirius started and then promptly shut up wide eyed, even as Harry glowered at him.

"What Horcrux?"

So between the two of them, Harry and Sirius told her everything that Harry had got up to during the two previous years. Andromeda's eyes were becoming increasingly wild, the only outward sign of any emotion that the woman might have felt. At the end of it all, she speared Harry with an evaluating look. "Do you mean to tell me that you got no counselling whatsoever after the traumas you suffered in the past two years? You were not given immediate treatment for the basilisk bite? You are telling me that Albus Dumbledore does not know of a single healer specialising in healing of active or passive possessions, which your scar evidently was- or is, since we don't know for sure what has happened to the soul fragment? You were left to deal with it for twelve years on your own, when it could have taken possession of you or killed you?" At their nods, she frowned. "Harry, please give the secret to Ted, Marius and Thaddeus, and call them here immediately. Do you know the Patronus charm can be used to send messages discreetly?" She didn't have to continue, as Harry sent of Prongs, Firewing and Padfoot to the three. Sirius sent Harry a frown as he realised something was off. There was no Moony, while the Mione the Otter was fuzzy and pulsing, as if she was changing in some way. Harry nodded and mouthed, "Later".

If Andromeda was surprised to see the Patroni, she did not show it. She merely smiled the thinnest of smiles, almost a smile reserved for Goblins. It was barely a few minutes later that the ward that signalled unknown magical visitors. Harry had long since decided that he was going to channel his inner Moody, so he got Andromeda to ask him questions to prove themselves. With that, they retired to the sitting room once again, where the new entrants were brought up to speed with everything that Sirius and Harry could divulge.

Harry decided that he needed to make a better story than the "I remembered when I was relieved of the Horcrux" excuse that he had been using. He conferred with Sirius regarding the Marauders' Map. Revealing its existence would make it an important piece of evidence. Sirius argued that since the Map did not contain places like the Chamber of Secrets or the Room of Requirement, it was time to update it. He remembered the notebook they had come up with while creating the map. It was in James' trunk. They also needed to remove Wormtail from the Order of the Marauders. It was time to create a new version of the map. Sirius also hypothesised that as Harry was the Lord of two of the Founders' Houses, it was possible that he would be having greater access to hitherto unknown places within the castle. So a self-updating map linked to Harry and the Hogwarts wards was now on the cards. It made Sirius seriously happy to actually be able to do something.

In the end, Ted Tonks grinned in an extremely unholy manner. "Are you lot willing to destroy the Wizengamot as we know it?" Sirius- and Harry due to his genes and grandparents' memories- knew a good prank as soon as he would see one. Ted Tonks was certainly gearing up for a massive one. There was a nod from all five of the rest.

"Well, Lucius, my dear brother-in-law, will soon be having his trial. I spoke to Amelia the day after your letter arrived, and she told me about the two questions you wanted Lucius to be asked. That was brilliant common sense by the way, and I am pretty sure that the pureblood idiots-" he raised his hands in mock surrender to Andromeda, Sirius, Marius and Thaddeus, "haven't thought about it at all. Once we do so- and we have ways to get the unassailable truth from Lucius- we take a complete check of every Death Eater under veritaserum and whatever else. I need to bring Amelia in on this, again. Once that is done, every single Death Eater that roams free can be- theoretically- arrested. Then we bring Pettigrew to justice. It is only after that, that we will get Sirius here a trial. You are the Head of House Potter aren't you, Harry?"

"Yes Sir."

"At the end of Pettigrew's trial, I require you to declare Sirius as your Protectorate till he is exonerated. That will be half the battle won. We will then move a motion of cease and desist regarding the trial against Dumbledore. He was the Chief Warlock then. We can move for an impeachment. Irrespective of whether or not that happens, we will have several people under pressure. With us against Dumbledore, the pureblood faction- which considers him an enemy- cannot do anything to openly retaliate against us. With his crime against Sirius, he can't go scot free. In essence, we put them both in a Catch-22 situation. Here the Auror department will intercede and want trials for all marked Death Eaters for their crimes. While the investigations proceed, with Pettigrew's fate already sealed, we get Sirius his trial- only after the investigations start. You, Sirius, then, will be required to take over the mantle of Lord Black. Let things calm down for a bit. Then Harry, you will need to declare all four Houses, and name their proxies. With a heavily depleted Wizengamot, Sirius will need to move a bill for lasting destruction of the Death Eaters. With all four of Harry's Houses supporting the bill, and obviously, even the Vassals and Allies and their Vassals doing the same, we will be rid of the scum once and for all. Using Rita Skeeter to do the dirty work in the Ministry was a masterstroke," he went on, nodding his respect to Harry, "That will rid us of any troublemakers in the Ministry. After that, we let things lie for a long while. It will be then that you will file a case against Albus Dumbledore for endangering your life and for being accessory to child abuse. If we can access your parents' testament of Will, and it does not list the Dursleys as potential guardians, we put him in the dock for kidnapping too."

Everyone looked at the man open-mouthed for a while, before Andromeda went to him and kissed him (on the cheek, of course; a more intimate display of affection was unbecoming of a daughter of the House of Black). "You always did have ambition enough to be in Slytherin, Ted, but be a bit realistic here. You are talking about taking down both sides here. Hypothetically, it may work. Will it work in reality? I doubt it. Marius, Thaddeus, back me up, please."

"Andy is right, Ted. Simultaneously going after them all will end up with us getting nothing at all. At the moment, even though we don't like Albus, he is no murderer- at least as far as we know. If we could get the scum Death Eaters out of the equation, that will be a big battle won."

"Er... sorry to interrupt, but I think I have done something that would make several steps in Mr. Tonks' plan a bit redundant."

Thaddeus glared imperiously at the boy. "And what, may I ask, have you done?"

Harry immediately told him about the Life Debt called due off House Malfoy, and the wording. For a moment, the three legal eagles stared at Harry, before Marius broke the silence by asking him, "Mr. Potter, do you have any plans for being a lawyer? You are clever, thorough, ruthless, and- please don't mind my French- absolutely sodding brilliant! Are you sure that you are a Gryffindor and not a Slytherin?"

"The Hat wanted to put me into Slytherin, but I met Malfoy before the sorting, and his obnoxious behaviour put me off of Slytherin. I do try to live up to the House ideals though. After all, I **_am_** Lord Slytherin," Harry replied with a grin, carefully sidestepping the issue regarding his future plans.

"Oh, on that note, Mr. Potter-"

"Harry please, sir."

"Thank you. Harry, I must thank you profusely for putting that blond prick Malfoy out of commission. He was trying to get a betrothal contract for both my daughters with his idiot of a son." What Marius didn't say was that he himself was veering towards setting up a contract for his daughter with Harry.

"Both?" Sirius asked weakly, even as Harry baulked in disgust and spat, "Marriage contract!"

Marius only grimaced. "Yes, both. Notwithstanding the fact that my Astoria will start her first year just this year, it is still extremely demeaning. Thankfully, murderous intent will get him nowhere near my daughters. Well, that and there might already be a contract between a daughter of the House of Greengrass and a far higher house." Harry wasn't sure but he kept feeling that Marius somehow had a Marauder glint in his eye, and it unsettled him totally.

"Oh?"

"Yes."

"But isn't Draco betrothed to Parkinson?"

"That he is, but Lucius never could control his greed and ambition," replied Marius.

They discussed several points of the cases that Ted had brought up for another hour or so. Just as they made to leave, Sirius remembered something. "Thaddeus, we have discussed quite a few things, but if things are as Harry says, and I don't doubt that a bit, could you just get a restraining order for Harry and Neville Longbottom against Severus Snape? Ted, if you want to put Old Man Whiskers down a notch, you should go after Snape. He killed Charlus and Dorea Potter, and Gerald Longbottom. Augusta has proof. I don't want Snivellus free anymore..."

"He killed Charlus?" Marius snarled. "He killed the man who helped me be what I am?" He seemed to lose his temper for the first time during the entire conversation. He paced like a caged tiger for a while before turning to Sirius and Harry and promising, "I swear I will destroy Severus Snape, Harry. I will destroy him worse than anything that Riddle could've ever done to him. I owe Charlus that!"

* * *

"That went rather well," Sirius commented, as he took a bite of chicken, that evening. "I didn't expect them to agree so easily. It helped that we have Wormtail, but kidnapping! Merlin! That was one audacious idea of Ted's!"

"Hmm..."

"I was rather astonished by Lucius' foolishness. Attempting two more betrothals while his son was already betrothed?"

"Hmm..."

Sirius frowned. "Did you know that there is a betrothal contract between House Potter and House Malfoy? Maybe that is why the idiot keeps going after you. He likes you, perhaps."

"Hmm..."

"Hermione sent an owl yesterday. She wants to marry her hero, Snivellus."

"Hmm..."

"The ESA selected me for their mission to Jupiter as a demented astronaut, Prongslet!"

"Good..."

"Moony and Minerva are dancing the conga while wearing Ballet clothes made of Basilisk skin..."

"Wonderful!"

"PRONGSLET!" yelled Sirius.

"Huh?"

"I'VE BEEN TRYING TO TALK TO YOU FOR QUITE SOMETIME NOW!"

"Oh. I was thinking."

Sirius rolled his eyes. "I can't believe you could think, pup!" At Harry's grimace and glare, Sirius became a bit serious. "What were you thinking about?"

"I was thinking about several things actually. What Andromeda said about the exorcist; how was it possible that Dumbledore who has forgotten more about arcane magics than most people have ever learnt did not know that? Dumbledore was really hoping I could be killed, you know..."

Sirius sighed. This was something Albus would pay for. Practically ignoring Charlus' and James' murder, and setting up Harry to die- Sirius' eyes widened. "You don't think that he wants to kill off all the Potters, do you?"

"I do. It's one of the things bugging me."

"Pup, listen to me. Right now, we have got the best possible support system for you, and it will only improve. I want you to put it out of your mind, for now. Every one of those that have harmed you will get what's coming to them. Frankly, I just can't stand the mere thought of Dumbledore anymore."

"I can't either. It is just too difficult to see Dumbledore's actions across two timelines as the manipulations they were as opposed to his benevolent countenance."

"Tell me about it. I have been in the magical world all my life, and I don't count Azkaban. I am unable to coalesce the man who recognised me as a person different from most of my family against the person I see him as now. It is as if he has lived his life hoodwinking everyone."

"I feel as if I am losing my notions of true and false. I really wish the old man was the least of my confusions."

"What else is on your mind, mate?"

"What else was Dumbledore wrong about? Did Voldemort really create **_only_** seven parts of his soul and an accidental eighth? We only had proof that he asked Slughorn about making seven parts. He chiefly was thinking about a magical number. There was never any proof that he didn't think of making thirteen Horcruxes. I think we need to study Horcruxes. I know for sure that there is something in the Black library and something in my Grimoires as well, because Regulus-" Sirius' breath hitched at that, "knew what it was that he was going after, and he knew the dangers, and my Reaper told me that the my Grimoire had the way to destroy the Horcrux without destroying the Horcrux as well. The other part, which I only thought of very recently, is that I fear that the Diadem and probably even Hufflepuff's cup, were not Horcruxes at all. Even within Gringotts, the cup had no personalised protections, and I know that many purebloods insist upon placing their own protections inside the vault. The Geminio and Flagrante curses were cruelly used, yes, but not harmful if one could detect them. And the Diadem was not protected at all! I am almost sure that it was a decoy."

Sirius froze at those speculations. He tried to feel angry at any of Dumbledore's manipulations- he really did. But every time, he tried, he was struck by the sinking feeling that came with the fear that they may not know about all of Voldemort's Horcruxes. That was a terrifying prospect, bar none.

"Sirius!" called Harry. "Are you alright?" Harry asked as he shook Sirius out of his terror filled reverie.

"Huh? Yes... yes I am, maybe" he replied as he looked at his godson with wild eyes. "Well, that's a lie actually. It is scary to think of what you are saying, and yet it isn't far-fetched enough." Sirius shivered as he said that.

"Well yeah, tell me about it. I actually went on the hunt and scavenged all sorts of places for those... _things_ ," Harry said with a shiver. "All that we know is that Voldemort is definitely two Horcruxes down at this point of time."

"That's true," Sirius agreed. "The question that remains is what to do about it."

Harry pushed his food around his plate for a while, before looking back to Sirius with the manic gleam that the older man had come to associate with a brilliant idea striking James. "What?"

"The Marauders' Map!" exclaimed Harry.

"What?"

"The Marauders' Map, Sirius! If the Map can be configured to point out every single entity within Hogwarts, irrespective of prior information, then can't we make a similar map to pinpoint every position where we can find magical traces similar or identical to any one Horcrux? We already have one- no, three supposed Horcruxes at hand. One is in Grimmauld Place. The Hufflepuff Cup is in the Lestrange's vault in Gringotts. Ravenclaw's Diadem is in the Room of Requirement. We can use any of the three to generate the required trace. In the event that Voldemort has Horcruxes outside of England, we can have Chief Bones use the network through the Department of International Magical Co-operation!"

Sirius looked at Harry with a frown, which then quickly turned into a grin. "That is an exceptionally brilliant idea, Pup! Damn Dumbledore and his hypothesis that the unknown power is love. It is the Marauder lineage that is the power," he cried, clutching his heart and giving a huge theatrical sniff. "But all jokes aside, that was a really wonderful idea. Once I am free, we need to recruit Moony into this."

Harry's face fell at that.

"What's the matter Pup?"

"My Moony Patronus..."

"Yes. It intrigued me too."

"Why did Moony vanish? Even Mione is changing, I just don't get it."

Sirius ran his hand through his hair, and continued with his meal before answering. "I think I can explain Moony. Over the past few days, you have realised that you definitely don't trust Moony yet and you won't; at least until he comes to his senses. The Patronus is a protector. You need to trust the protector. You don't trust Moony."

"Strangely for you, that makes sense," Harry said slyly.

"Ha-Bloody-Ha," Sirius replied drolly. "As for the Otter, I don't know for sure, but I have a theory. Again it has to do with the theory regarding Patroni. A Patronus is dependent on protection and perception. You always felt protected by Hermione's skills and her brain, but not by her combat skills. In essence, you always thought of her as a silent protector of sorts. Now, you think of her as your conscience. In effect, you are relying much more on her. Your perception of her is changing. That is changing your Patronus related to her. It will be interesting to see what it transforms into. I think it may have a lot to do with the way she tried to buy your way away from the Snatchers." Sirius was at the receiving end of a long open-mouthed stare from Harry at that.

"What?"

"It becomes difficult to think of you as the same person who forgets ever so conveniently to tell me that the Head of the DMLE is his betrothed."

Sirius sighed. "I haven't forgotten. I am just not sure whether Amy will care. She didn't, in either timeline. Did she contact you about me after you realised that I was innocent? Even after I escaped? She didn't. Either way, as the Head of DMLE, she could have checked my file. Why didn't she? She let me rot in Azkaban, even though it was clearly in her power to help me. Just as we don't trust Moony, I can't trust her."

"You've changed," Harry accused. "Last time around, you didn't speak much, even though I always wanted you to. You are assertive now. You make your thoughts clearly known now. That time around, you always gave the impression that you didn't care for human companionship. You always let Molly and Moony beat you down. I never liked that."

Sirius smiled sardonically. "And of course, I wasn't imprisoned in the one place I hated, was I? I had every chance of getting free, and it was always going to be a case of when and not if anybody would realise that they should take my counsel. Of course, Dumbledore did not put any restrictions, and I was never frustrated, was I?"

Harry ducked his head and nodded contritely. "That is true, but I always wanted someone who was really _my_ family, and you were. It often made me wonder whether you despised me because I lived and mum and dad didn't." Seeing the scowl on Sirius' face, he quickly continued, "Not that I entertain that notion anymore, but still, nobody was ever on my side. Nobody ever possessively fought for me. So it often made me feel lost," he said in forlorn reminiscence.

"Pup, I promise you, I'll always want you. You may not be my son but you are nothing less for me. It'll always be us against anyone else," Sirius said, as he got up and went around the table to hug his godson. It was easy to get carried away in Harry's return in time, or to revel in his planning and his mature behaviour, but the truth was that he was always going to be, at least in part, a kid who never had his childhood, whatever age he would grow to be.


	23. Chapter 23

A/N: Here starts the point beyond the first six weeks of the summer.

 **A Summer Week with Friends**

* * *

That Sunday, Granny Min, Neville and Madam Longbottom, Hermione and her parents, and Luna and her father came rather early for the Housewarming party that Harry and Padfoot were hosting. Harry had described Hermione to Sirius, and as soon as she arrived, Sirius bounded up to her and sat on his haunches, staring up at the girl, rather unnerving her. He then barked at her softly and padded up to Harry and wagged his tail, with a manic dog grin that Harry immediately recognising as a teasing and approving grin. Harry was very much tempted to kick his dog-butt.

"Harry? You never told me you had a dog that looked exactly like your animagus form..." Hermione complained. It was at that moment that Harry realised what had changed. Hermione had started taking miniscule liberties. She was no longer very proper when she spoke to him. That explained why Mione was changing.

"That's a recent addition to the family. His name is Padfoot. He likes to chase me in my other form."

"He can fly?" Luna asked with a dreamy wide-eyed stare.

"Eh? No!" Harry responded vehemently as he realised what Luna was thinking about. He transformed into Pup and bounded up to her. Luna may have always seemed vague, but she was still a twelve year old girl. She squealed and clapped as Harry bounded around her twice before making her fall on her back. Xenophilius had only seen his daughter make a cover to protect her from being hurt by losses of any sort since her mother's death- just as he had. For him, the scene was particularly heart-warming. He had sensed her apprehension that morning as they had left by Floo- it was still difficult for her to believe that anyone would want to be friends with her. But the look on her face when their host had told her that each of the friends invited had a room for themselves at the House, which they could consider as their own home, was one of pure, unadulterated joy. He couldn't help but laugh as she and the pet dog which wasn't a dog chased after the Pup. Celeste had indeed made a good choice when she had befriended Lily. Soon enough, Hermione and Neville too, were hounded by the two Grimm, and they too joined the fun. It was juvenile really, but all the same, it was refreshing for all the parents present to see their children so unrestrained.

They spent the morning generally relaxing, with the adults and the children being individually given a tour of the place. Neville's eyes glazed over when he saw the space Harry had reserved for his garden. "So much space," Neville sighed, almost drooling at the prospect. "So much space, reserved solely for plants. Harry, are you sure you want me to take it over completely?" The pleading and eager look in Neville's eyes was an amusing sight.

"Absolutely," replied Harry. "It's all yours to do whatever you want to with it. I am not sure what resources you'll need, but I went and bought some books to help you. Two are all inclusive plant encyclopaediae- one for magical plants and one for non- magical. One book is about landscaping, and there's one about non-magical plant cross breeding. I tried to find a similar one for magical plants, but I was directed to Knockturn Alley, and I didn't want to venture there..." Harry needn't have bothered with the explanation. He was pretty sure that Neville wasn't listening. Neville was no longer paying attention to that. He observed every square inch of the space with a glazed expression and a goofy smile.

Augusta and Minerva laughed at that. "You, Harry, have unleashed a Monster," Minerva told him as she chuckled. Harry only smiled. Neville was a useful monster to unleash.

It was the library where Hermione and Luna really came into their element. As a quasi-Ravenclaw, and a real Ravenclaw, they were in equal parts, over the moon to see the sheer size of the space dedicated to the library and aghast to see that it was empty. It was well nigh a criminal offense. The disappointment was rolling of them in waves, and Harry sensed it. "Come now, Hermione, Luna. You didn't seriously think I would give Neville a free rein over the gardens, and expect you to do nothing to add to our home, do you? You two will be in charge of stocking up the library..." Harry was suddenly knocked back by two squealing girls hugging the life out of him. It always scared Harry. He loved them both, he really did. But the hugs always forcibly reminded him of mother bears.

"You are serious about this, aren't you?" Hermione asked.

"Of course I am. Look, this is a place that is as much yours, Luna's and Neville's as it is mine. I am not a very competent person as far as choosing books goes. I trust you two to decide well. You have roughly a thousand galleons, **_each_** , to spend. I just want a proper mix of magical and non-magical. When I had this house made, it was with the very idea that whenever any of you felt like it, you could pop over and do whatever you want, irrespective of whether or not I am here. I reiterate- it is our home."

Both girls stared open-mouthed at Harry. A combined budget of two thousand galleons or nearly seventy two thousand pounds was way, _way_ more than they had imagined. And Harry was basically giving them carte blanche to spend all that money on books. Both understood the responsibility that it was. And both felt happier than words could say at Harry's affirmation that it was their home too.

"You really mean it, Harry?" Luna asked, hope and nervousness palpable in her every word.

"Of course I am. I would like to think that if our parents were alive, they'd like the arrangement, for want of a better word. Kid you not, do I, little Moon. You are always going to be welcome here."

Luna giggled at being called little Moon. "I like that," she said bashfully. "Everybody made fun of my name."

"Well, your name does pertain to the Moon, as such, so I think I'd call you little Moon or Mooney- how about that?"

Luna thought about it for a while, and then smiled happily. "I like it. Every time they call me Loony, I can correct them and make them call me Mooney."

Harry's face hardened at that. "Promise me this, Luna. You are going to correct them, only after hexing them three ways into next week and back."

"Yes," Luna agreed smiling impishly. She liked the way Harry wanted her safe and got angry on her behalf. It was nice to have friends.

"HARRY!" yelled Hermione from somewhere above them. "COME UP HERE WILL YOU?"

"COMING!" answered Harry as the he made up the ladder to join Neville and Hermione. Luna followed with a happy smile on her face. It was wonderful to be wanted.

* * *

The adults, and Sirius who acted as if he had taken a liking to Minerva (he would have to, she was going to stay with them thereafter till the 23rd of August) were convening for their own discussion after their tour of the house. By unanimous consent, they decided to gather at the top of the minaret. Just as they were approaching, however, Xenophilius discretely ushered Padfoot to a secluded space.

"I know that you are not a dog. I know that you are Sirius Black." If a dog could have lost composure and stared open-mouthed at someone, Padfoot was doing that now. Xenophilius continued regardless. "Harry Potter makes my daughter happy by just being a friend. You couldn't have come in without him telling you the secret. I will assume that he knows, and I will trust his judgement. I don't care what the people think of me. If you hurt him, I swear I'll put you down." The threatening whisper made Sirius want to transform.

"Please put up a few privacy wards, Mr. Lovegood. I need to get this off my chest, as much as for my sake as for Harry's." When the dirty-blonde haired man complied, Sirius said, "Understand, Mr. Lovegood, I can hurt Harry no more than I can hurt myself. I will not go into the matter too deep, but my being in Azkaban has led to Harry being hurt. I am his ritually sworn Godfather. Harry realised that, and **_he_** broke me out of Azkaban. The thorough person that he is, he also caught Peter Pettigrew alive. He was our friend before he betrayed us all to Voldemort. I was warned that either you or Luna would recognise me. If you had seen the Weasley kid's rat, you would've recognised him as Pettigrew, another illegal animagus." Sirius was very nervous as he told it all.

Xenophilius' fierce expression withered off. "Does Harry trust you?"

"Yes," Sirius answered without hesitation.

"Then we shall have no problem," Xenophilius countered, holding out his hand. As Sirius shook it, the man asked, "Mr. Black, you would know a Stubby Boardman wouldn't you? I want the Hobgoblins to get back together."

Sirius, who was warned of that too, only shrugged and smiled.

* * *

The adults and the dog settled easily at the top of the tower were having an intense discussion about the house and their host in general.

"I must say, when Harry told me he was building this house, I never imagined it to be so tasteful," Augusta said.

"It is a wonder that he can think about it at all," added Minerva. "Given what those Dursleys did to him..." she trailed off with a growl which resonated with Augusta's and Padfoot's.

The Doctors Granger perked up at that. "What do you mean?"

"I just hope that you don't pity him for that. In a way, Augusta and I are the closest to whatever he could call as grandmothers. It made me invoke the Witches' curse of familial revenge on the Headmaster for keeping him with those... things for twelve years." Xenophilius' gasp told the Grangers that there was something very big.

"Could you explain that please?"

"The Witches' Curse of Familial Revenge is invoked whenever a family member is harmed or hurt badly in any manner, or killed. It is generally done by the oldest witch in the family. I was his father's godmother, and the ritual is akin to the blood adoption ritual except for the heir to the line part. In essence, a bit of my blood flows through Harry too. He could very well call me his grandmother in blood, which is what he does," Minerva explained. "Albus Dumbledore convinced everyone when he kept Harry with the Dursleys that the boy was safe, and took an Unbreakable Vow from me to not reveal to Harry how he was related to me, unless and until he recognised me, because he convinced me that it was or his safety. In effect, I could not treat Harry with the love he deserved, and while with the muggles, he was- there's no easy way to put it- heavily abused. That has led to him having severe issues with friends and authority- in essence he is very much socially inept. Everyone has made mistakes as far as he is concerned," she completed with a weary sigh.

"Has he had counselling for the abuse? It has been proven that abused children often go on to be abusers themselves. Of the rare ones that don't, very few are able to truly lead successful, positive lives. Most of the children that aren't able to do so and don't become abusers, hide a part of themselves behind a facade. The facade can be powerful or powerless. Their real selves that are hidden may cause terrible damage to everything. The quiet, unassuming, cold-hearted murderer is not as much a myth as it may seem. Similarly, it is possible for a seemingly powerful person being abhorrent of a family or nearly subservient in their behaviour with any family that they may have. And that's just two of the more common possibilities. It is also possible that he may come off as confident with everyone, in which case he may not necessarily think of even you as his family."

Minerva's worry increased exponentially at that. Albus had- there was no other word for it- screwed up even the chance for any happiness that Harry would have with his own family, unless he was given help. Albus in his infinite wisdom had very nearly created another Dark Lord. "What should we do?"

"I think," said Jean, "that you should find such psychiatrists or psychologists or counsellors at the very least that have at least a cursory knowledge of the magical world. People like us, who have children that are witches or wizards, or muggleborn students or- what was that word? Ah yes- squibs that have gone on to pursue degrees related to those fields are ideal candidates to help Harry. The one saving grace is that he has become increasingly disillusioned by magic as such. He told me that he has further plans to pursue an engineering degree along with Masteries in three magical subjects and set up his own magical technological firm. I dread to think what would have happened if the conditions had been such that there was a constant quasi-warlike state. He wouldn't have known what to do after, and if, this magical terrorist was taken out once and for all."

"Is it possible that he has already become vengeful?" Minerva asked.

"Why would you say so?"

Minerva narrated the incident that surrounded Harry's treatment of Draco Malfoy. She also told the audience how he had gone against Dumbledore. The very nature of the debt claim had been such that even the smallest infarction, even by thought, would kill Draco. When she was done, she had the most unexpected reaction- Augusta's laughter.

"Minnie, are you sure that the boy is really Harry? He is so much like Charlus! And then there is the way he behaves like James every now and then, and that clever, kind yet vindictive if necessary Lily. It is a damned good thing that my Neville is his friend. Can you imagine any lion of yours who is just as much a serpent?"

Sirius barked out his dog-laughter. Prongslet had told him about this, but it would still be just as amusing and clever each time he heard it. The Pup was really the real Marauder. He would have wiped tears of pride at that. He spied Xenophilius smiling at him, and barked at him again.

"Augusta! How can you say such a thing? It was the one time I really feared Harry, and that has never happened before, let me have you know. Harry phrased the claim in such a way that even a toe out of the line would claim the Malfoy boy's life! This is the way to the darkness. Even though Dumbledore said it, I can't help but agree!"

Sirius growled at that. He looked towards Xenophilius, who understood why Sirius was angry. That wasn't darkness. It was Harry's way of safeguarding his friends. He was about to move to defend their host, but it was unnecessary, as the defence came from the Grangers.

"I disagree, Professor. I would say that he used every resource available to him to stave off any future repercussion by that boy. Hermione told us how he would bully her and all other muggleborn students racially. That is simply not done. It was the responsibility of the School to inculcate the sense of right and wrong, and you all failed spectacularly. The way I see it, Harry has taken out a big threat to your school's harmony, while also showing any of the boy's sympathisers that they would not find the going easy if they resorted to such behaviour. As for his disregard for life, tell me this. Is Hermione or any of her non pureblood peers bereft of any right to life? Did you know that he claimed two life debts from Hermione too?"

Everyone's eyes widened at that. Evidently nobody knew. So the Grangers narrated their story of the Life Debt claim against Hermione. "Tell me this, if Harry disregarded life, would he have made such claims, each of which was specifically worded to keep our daughter safe? We know that if this Voldemort creature rises again, Hermione will not leave Harry. At least she won't do so of her own volition. By the claim that he made, he has ensured that she will be safe from whatever sort of attack on her possible that he could think of. I must say that I'll be eternally grateful to him for his actions."

Sirius was seriously impressed, and he could see that so was everyone else. Harry was taking decisions that had far-reaching effects, and was providing those he cared for by the best possible help and protection he could give. It also worried Sirius a bit. These were the decisions of an adult. The Pup had never been a kid. Would Harry lose himself and his sanity to such pressures, fears and tensions? Sirius' job became all the more defined. He had to anchor Harry, just as Harry anchored him.

* * *

The said host was currently engaged in convincing his friends to both stay over for a week, as well as to join him for a broom flight. While all three were accepting of the first idea, Hermione wouldn't touch the broom (a Cleansweep 5) that Harry proffered. Harry had made the modifications to the broom that would make them easier to sit on. Hermione though, would still not let that budge her.

"If you think that adding better seating to a broom would make me use that scary contraption, then you, Harry James Potter, are an idiot!" she screeched.

"But see, Hermione, Harry has tried to make it easier for you, why not at least give it a try?" Luna asked her.

"Mione, try it please? I have placed an area wide cushioning charm on the grounds. You won't get hurt even if you fall." Harry even did his pleading eyes.

"No."

"Neville, you'll fly won't you?"

Neville would generally now stand his ground, but he was increasingly susceptible to being cajoled into doing or not doing something by Harry.

"Well it won't hurt to try, will it?" Neville asked nervously, making Harry beam widely.

"I knew you'd fly! See, Mione, Neville is fighting his fears, you can do so too! Think of this as riding a bike. I'll teach you, and then you can slowly progress to flying on your own! Please! Please do this Mione?" Harry now tried the new trick Sirius had been teaching him. Coupled with intent, a powerful boost of magic would coax any person into agreeing to his requests. It was the trick Dumbledore often used. Looking at Hermione with his best puppy-dog eyes, and sending so much magic into his intent of making her acquiesce, he kept staring at her.

Hermione tried, she really did. _'I'll not agree... I'll not agree... I'll not let him coax me into this... I won't be swayed by his eyes..."_ she chanted mentally, but Harry's trick and his persistence made her walls crumble. "Harry, I am afraid of heights," she said in a small voice.

"Come on, Hermione. I'll be with you. I won't let you fall, my precious," he added sibilantly, and with a smile and intent look into her eyes. Hermione tried to break his stare, but couldn't. She felt her insides jumping around and doing flip-flops at that, causing her knees to buckle slightly. _'Damn him and those entrancing eyes,'_ she groused mentally. "Ok."

Harry mounted his one broom and rose slightly, before catching Hermione by the shoulders and plopping her in front of him. Hermione uttered a small "eep" in protest, something to which Harry paid no mind at all. Harry and Hermione, and Neville and Luna on their Cleansweep 5s, rose and settled into gentle laps around the house. Hermione was holding on tightly to the broom with both hands. She had two warring feelings at the moment. Harry was holding her to the broom with a hand around her waist as they rose with the other hand holding onto the broom. She was extremely thrilled with that. She hadn't yet come to terms with why she kept thinking of Harry differently, but she couldn't help but feel that this was a romantic setting. That was however, offset by the natural fear of heights. As they lapped- once; twice; thrice and a fourth time- Hermione's fear diminished rather quickly. When she thought about it, she would never know whether it was simply due to the gentle pace, or Harry's presence or due to him holding on to her. Whatever it was, she felt at ease, as she had never felt with Madam Hooch.

After the fifth lap, Harry gently guided the broom towards the ground. "Hermione, look, I'll be with you. Why don't you try to fly yourself?"

"But..." Hermione so very much wanted to protest, but Harry had started becoming very well-versed in the art of manipulation.

With a little flare of power and a grave voice, he growled, "Hermione, think of the debt if you need to. You are a witch. If things come to such a pass that you need to escape, a broom will come handy. I am not asking you to perform acrobatics. Just use the broom, I won't let you fall!"

Hermione gulped before hastening to comply. She couldn't understand why she accepted his words that quickly though. What was this power that Harry wielded over her?

Over the next hour, Harry flew with the others, coaxing them to speed up, to pull a little stunt here or to pull a little dive there. Soon enough, they were all flying freely at their own pace. Neville was feeling particularly adventurous, dive-bombing Harry every time he passed close by irritating the boy to no end. The next time he flew by, Harry purposely stopped a little behind Neville and in a fluid motion completed a pirouette around by the tail. Neville, who had been completely geared up for a dive, so nobody to target and was plummeting before he brought his broom under control in a long curve, gaining claps of frank appreciation of his companions. It was another step forward for Neville who was now confident on a broom too. He could see what Harry had been telling him about, it was really cool to ride a broom, the wind whipping in the face.

"Oi Harry!" he yelled. "May I have a go on the Nimbus?" he asked with not a little trepidation. It was not a question about Harry allowing Neville to use the broom. Neville still didn't feel confident enough. Harry simply landed and held out the broom to Neville in answer. Neville spent nearly fifteen minutes working the broom into a comfortable companionship. It was, to put it lightly, an exhilarating feeling. He really wanted to fly again. Now that he thought about it, he could see where Harry's suggestion to be a beater was coming from. He really **_felt_** the broom.

Harry meanwhile, had decided to fly with Luna. "So, little Moon, how does it feel? Do you like flying?"

"I like the brooms better, now." She swung upside down with little thought and giggled. "I like the seating much better," she reaffirmed. "Why did you add the seat?"

"It was something that Neville said, actually. He was thinking of a bicycle as a muggle broom. I just stretched things a bit from there."

"You are going to teach us to ride bicycles too, aren't you?"

"Of course I am. But we are all having quite a bit of fun here."

"I can see that." Glancing up at Hermione, she snorted in a very unladylike manner. "Even Hermione fancies higher speeds now." Harry only grinned in response.

They flew for another hour till they were all summoned for lunch. For Harry, this was a very important accomplishment. Flying wasn't to be just fun. It was a useful escape route, and he was going to make sure that his friends at least were conversant with its use. They were all too precious to allow even the slightest chink in their respective armours. After lunch he worked on another chink in their armour. They (Luna and Neville) learnt how to ride bicycles.

* * *

For the entire week, the quartet, chaperoned quietly by a dog and Granny Min, participated in various activities that could be deemed as fun, but essentially, were aimed at improving their agility and response times. When they played two-a-side football, Luna was a revelation as a striker/winger, just as Neville was between the sticks. To any observer, it would just seem to be four kids having fun. That was the way Sirius had planned it to be. In reality, it was as close to being a muggle summer camp as could be, without the participants missing out on the fun. They went shopping in the non-magical world, watched films, went to amusement parks, and in general, did everything a non-magical family would do during summers. As Harry and Hermione had both been brought up in the non-magical world, they showed their friends around. It helped that Neville and Luna both caught up with this part quickly. By the end of the week, both were able to make purchases on their own using the British currency. They were also tremendously enchanted by the technology which the non-magical people used. Magic seemed so lame compared to that. Both could appreciate the sheer ingenuity that was required to come up with everything as the mug- no mundane did. While this was an unconscious effect, both had started thinking along the lines of Harry's ambitions to mix mundane and magical. It would be a major, defining, turning point of their lives.

It also helped that Hermione, Neville and Luna also found each other to be very good friends. Neville, on his part, realised that Hermione's pushy, nagging relentlessness was as much a cocoon for her as his shy reticence was for himself. Both found each other very companionable as they saw the other out of their natural habitats- the library and the greenhouse. In fact, much like Harry, Hermione found Neville to be a much better person to be with, as compared to Ron. It also helped that Neville was a pro as far as unsubtle yet not derogatory humour went. This was a new side of Neville, and Hermione was very enthusiastic in sealing this new friendship. Neville found out that once Hermione relaxed, she could be a measured, powerful person with near supreme predatory instincts, which were channelled to meet her legal and valid personal ends, and not for vindictiveness. In this she was unlike Harry- he could be extremely cruel as he had shown Draco Malfoy, but his main intention was protecting those he cared about. It was more a difference in the intent.

Luna was a puzzle for Hermione. While often the young blonde would make seemingly senseless statements, she rolled a pearl of wisdom more often than not. Harry had explained to her his theory about her creatures, something that Hermione had found a very plausible explanation. It was easy to dismiss Luna's vague demeanour, yet when one went beyond the presented face, Hermione found unconventional wisdom that often wasn't present in people several times Luna's age. Luna had realised that Hermione worked within set rules and regulations and only now was opening up to using the loopholes presented with them. Hermione was very literal-minded, but made up for that by using all her resources for her ends. She was also an unfailingly loyal friend. She couldn't help but admire Hermione.

Luna and Neville were on a level, kindred spirits. Where Neville loved plants, Luna adored animals. Both were powerful in their own right. Neville was grounded, as opposed to Luna's unbound vagueness. Each struck a chord with the other quite well.

It was a fruitful week for them all. With very strong friendships being forged between the four, the year ahead was looking quite brighter. Over the week, Neville, and Harry had agreed that they would really be as close to being brothers as they could possibly be. Harry took this to mean that they would be like James and Sirius, or Fred and George, and suggested using the memory spell on the third night of their stay. By the end, they had reached a silent accord that they wanted to kill each others' relatives. Dropping an eight year old to see whether or not he had magic? By the weekend, they had progressed to somewhere along the lines of Fred and George's twin talk, albeit at a very nascent stage. This was much to Hermione's consternation and to Minerva's utter terror- she really wasn't looking forward to another pair of troublemakers.

The afternoons were spent introducing the magicals to the wonders of electrical and electronics. In typical old pureblood lady fashion, Minerva and Augusta recoiled from the Food Processor and the TV and lights.

"How did you get these things to work?" Hermione asked in wonderment.

"There are several parts to it. When I actually got the house constructed, I did not think over the matter much. The way I saw it, Magic and Electrical Energy are both forms of energy. If they did not work together, I had to find a way to isolate them. Tell me something, if you are sitting in a metal cage and lightning strikes it, what will happen?"

"The electrical surge will wash over literally. The car will act like a Far... Oh!"

"Exactly!" exclaimed Harry enthusiastically. "I got my architect to design a runic array around the Faraday's Cage. Now magic from outside doesn't affect the electronics.

"And then, I realised that I was foolish."

"Why?"

"When we were little, we had bursts of accidental magic. Did it affect the appliances around us?"

"No..."

"That is precisely the point. Magic and Electronics affecting each other very badly is foolish in the extreme. I am not saying that it is false. The Earth's Magnetic Field does affect the readings of a Tangent Galvanometer. But we can get the instrument to work with some adjustments and resetting the zero, so to speak. It is the same with Magic and Electricity. All the same, the protection is now in place."

"Then why do they say that magic and electricity don't mingle well?" asked Luna.

Harry pointed to Minerva and Augusta. "What was their reaction when they saw the electronics? They recoiled from it like it was something dangerous. Think what Ron or Malfoy would do. They would fire a Reducto at the TV. Of course it will be destroyed." The girls giggled at that.

Over the week, the Magicals found the wonders of Doctor Who, Star Wars, BBC, the Discovery Channel and so on and so forth. Sirius insisted on them all watching sports channels too. It was a successful start to the integration of a very small group of purebloods into mainstream mundane society.

* * *

It was on the day before they were going to leave that Neville sought Harry for a private conversation. "Harry, may I ask you a question?"

"Yes?"

"I want a completely true answer to this. Am I a replacement for Ron, in some way?"

Harry was flummoxed at this. "Why would you think so?"

"It- I don't really know. You have been behaving really oddly since that scar thing, and I simply can't get it out of my mind," Neville replied with a shrug.

"Neville, listen to me. You are not a replacement for anyone. Is it possible that Ron and I will not remain friends forever? Yes. It is also possible that we may remain really close friends. But our friendship has absolutely nothing to do with that. You know how I was treated by my relatives." Neville nodded with a grimace. "Well when I came to Hogwarts two years ago, I was afraid of people. Ron and Hermione literally forced themselves on me, and I must say that I am thankful for that. The scar made matters worse because it played games with my mind. While I didn't really mix with people, it didn't mean that I didn't observe them. We didn't interact a lot, but what I observed of you showed that you could be trusted. I had walls just as you did. However, while those two bulldozed the walls bit by bit, you didn't have anyone doing that for you. So I realised that I had to take the initiative. Does that answer your question?"

"It-It strangely does. I just felt that you wanted me to be your project of some sort. I mean at Hogwarts, I am little more than an oddball."

"You know, Nev, you should stop putting yourself down. Was breaking down your walls a project for me? Yes. You aren't a project for me. You are you. You don't need to be changed. I just wanted back the friend I knew there was as I remembered him. I admit, I may have seemed a bit too overbearing these past few days, but that is largely due to the fact that this is the first time I have had friends over. I didn't know what all one does then. The other reason is that we both know that Voldemort is not gone. I purposely introduced you to the non-magical world. When you will be a fully trained wizard, and a powerful wizard at that, Voldemort- if he is back by then- will try either to recruit you or to put you down because you'll be a threat. I'll freely admit that I manipulated you into becoming comfortable with the non-magical world as well, because should the need arise, you'll find this a safe haven. Being a friend doesn't just mean respecting a person- it also becomes my responsibility to ensure that I help you stay safe."

Neville truly appreciated that. He had been allowed to progress at his own pace, as he realised, and he could recognise that he was certainly more comfortable than any of his pureblood peers in the muggle world. Harry was thinking far ahead, but it was necessary. And he had come to realise that he really was powerful. He smiled and nodded at Harry. "Thanks Harry. I liked being truthfully explained things. And I am not angry with you for what you called manipulation. If at all, I should be thankful. You know, I think Luna and I should treat you in the same way to make you understand the magical world fully," he said musingly.

"That will be great," Harry replied with a relieved sigh.

"Yeah, you are absolutely pants regarding that. There is another matter..."

"Is this about the Potions lessons?"

"Yes. Gran asked around about Mrs. Tonks. With all I have heard, I am willing to attend those lessons with you."

"Great!" replied Harry effusively. "It will be nice to have lessons with a friend instead of having them alone. Oh, by the way, I took a liberty. I asked my legal advisors to serve a restraining motion against Snape in my favour. I also asked them to draft another order in your favour. If you'd like it, you better talk to them."

"Thanks for that too, mate. Thanks for looking out for me. That's something Gran and I should've done for you all these years," he said morosely.

"Let bygones be bygones Nev. We need to surge ahead with what we have."

* * *

When Hermione's parents came to pick her on Sunday, they were all joined by the other adults. It was four days after the basilisk skeleton had been unveiled to the general public. By orders of the Ministry of Magic and Hogwarts, the source of the skeleton was not revealed. As Sirius always said, neither of the institutions could be accused of competence. As Harry had mentioned the basilisk during his Life Debt claim off Malfoy, at the feast during which **_every_** student was present, it was a measure too little, too late. Naturally, everyone knew that it was the basilisk that the boy-who-lived had killed, something that Harry himself had confirmed at Hogwarts. Harry obviously had to go under disguise, so James Matthew Evans, a younger magical cousin of Hermione, made his way to the British Magical Museum. It was a particularly crowded day, seeing as it was the first Sunday after the unveiling.

Harry never knew a museum, having never visited one. It was quite an enriching experience. There were several artefacts that fairly _pulsed_ with magic, almost making them seem alive, as if magic was the lifeblood pumping through them. There was a set of the two era birthstones- both the old era and the new. It was for the first time that Harry realised why they were called that. It was a description of the way a person's magic reacted with crystals and in general with the elements of nature. Then there were the relics from Egypt, making Harry idly wonder how many of these Bill had seen. These emanated a dark feeling within Harry, and saw that those were relics were solid, physical Imperius Curses. He and Neville had to physically tackle Mr. Granger from reaching over and touching a ring, with Harry having flashes of Dumbledore's hand, just as Hermione tripped her mother to stop her from progressing further. Harry was really worried that one of these might be Horcruxes of Dark Lords of an era gone by.

Then there were the ritual stones excavated from the earliest magic users. It was fascinating to know about the genesis and evolution of witches and wizards as they were today. This was infinitely better than whatever passed for History of Magic. Harry knew that he would be taking ancient Runes, but there were several that even Madam Longbottom did not recognise. Before long they passed into the natural history part of the museum. Harry and Hermione exchanged knowing glances as Luna and Neville turned into hyperactive, excited kids on a sugar overdose on Christmas morning. In the section that housed the remains or reconstructed casts of ancient plants, Neville was positively drooling and started a running commentary which, at the speed he was speaking, seemed to be little more than gibberish. Luna was just as excited, and was particularly gleeful when she saw the fossilised remains of the Crumpled Horned Snorkack, a small, crumple horned, cross between a bear and an elephant. Harry realised that she was interested in proving they weren't extinct yet, instead of proving they existed. He resolved to help then and there.

The piece de resistance, the centrepiece of attraction required separate tickets. Harry couldn't help but snort at the irony that he was paying to watch the self-same basilisk that he had killed. An elbow to the ribs and a glare from Hermione shut him up. It was quite the formidable queue to see it, and if Harry were less modest, he would have agreed that so was the sight.

As soon as they entered the dedicated chamber, Harry felt as if he was being apparated by multiple people. The Grangers were squeezing his shoulders and Madam Longbottom had a death grip on his arm. It was nothing short of a revelation for them. There was a boy of their own children's age, who had dealt with this big a threat. And that was with the weapons of sight and venom that the creature had. David was making hurried alterations to the "hurt her and you die" speech he was readying for Harry. It was unlikely that someone who fought _that_ thing would be particularly afraid of a mere dentist. Xenophilius was positively miffed that he had lost such a big story opportunity.

One would have expected that there would be people who would be gushing, but as he saw the reaction of one Lavender Brown, who too had come to see the skeleton, he realised that most were going to be awestruck into silence. When she pulled aside Hermione and asked her to help her snag the heroic boy-who-lived, Hermione's glare turned ice cold, even as James grimaced when he heard it. That was going to be terrible. Hermione could be insanely possessive, if she felt like it.

It took a lot of time for them to move out, as many students, particularly girls of all ages whom they had seen in passing at Hogwarts wanted to talk to Hermione 'discreetly' about her experience of being petrified, about Harry, and several asking to be introduced to Harry. She only smiled in a strained manner at them, before glaring at James each time with an expression that put the fear of God into him. He knew that he would need to ask why she was angry at him, and also knew that asking that was inviting the formidable wrath of Hermione Granger.

It was when they moved into the relics and belongings of famous witches and wizards that Harry felt dread wash over him, making him buckle and freeze. He had no doubt what the feeling was. When everyone looked at him questioningly, he turned his ashen face at them, and just said, "Later" in as placid a tone as he could muster. His pallor and horror-stricken face was enough to make his companions' blood freeze. And it also told Harry that his theory was correct, unfortunately.

After the visit to the museum Minerva apparated to the Leaky Cauldron to book them a private room for lunch and discussions. The others followed at a sedate pace. They could all feel the horror that had washed over Harry, and it was obvious that whatever it was just far too terrible to speak of in public even in whispers.

* * *

When they settled in the room, with their lunch, the elder witches threw up every conceivable privacy spell around them. "What was it?" Minerva demanded.

"One of Tom Riddle's things, I am pretty sure of that."

The shocked gasps and sucked breaths told the Granger couple that there was something very sinister afoot. "What are we missing?"

"Dr. Granger, do you remember what Hermione told you about my scar? A similar thing lies in that Museum. As I was one- or rather my scar was one, I can sense those things."

"Should I ask Amelia to confiscate it?" Augusta asked.

"No- primarily, because I don't know 'what' exactly 'it' is. I can pinpoint the general area, not the thing itself." As an afterthought, he added, "It will be wise to tell her where it is, and to request her to refrain from making very thorough searches as of yet. Instead, ask her to keep round-the-clock surveillance in that room. I suspect that one of the employees or the donor was the Death Eater tasked with its safekeeping. That means someone will know of its existence, and will check on it every once in a while. It is in an excellent strategic position."

"That makes sense."

"Shouldn't we tell Albus?" Minerva asked.

"Why? He has known that old Tommy made those things ever since that Halloween night twelve years ago. If he did not do anything for twelve years, why will he do anything now? I trust him as far as I can throw Hagrid, Granny. It is not his job. Had he done his job of eradicating bigotry and actually looking out for his students, this would have never been a problem. Amelia Bones; His Majesty, the Lord Director; the Unspeakables; these are the people that should know. We need to inform Albus Dumbledore squat."

"I agree with Harry. You have unwarranted trust in a man who is, simply put, useless. I would go so far as to say he might be a closet bigot. Moreover, I, as an absolute layperson can tell that Harry is much better equipped to deal with the situation. Why trust a person who has proven himself untrustworthy?" David added his own two Knuts.

"I agree," Xenophilius said. "This is not Albus Dumbledore's domain."

They were about to discuss further, but the sound of someone coming up the steps stilled them. The wards cast were such that all sounds and sights and smells would only come in from out of the wards. They realised their setting, and decided to drop the subject. The Marauders' Place was a much better place to speak about those things. They continued with their meal in silence, before, Harry asked Hermione something that had been bothering him.

"Mione, why were you giving me death glares every time someone came up to you to talk about being petrified?"

If David and Jean needed any proof that Harry hadn't left behind his age as he went about doing things that needed doing, they had it now. He was as clueless as the stereotypical thirteen year old male. It caused the adults to snort. Harry looked at them with an even more confused expression. When he turned back to Hermione, he realised that she had turned bright red.

"No-nothing!" she squeaked.

Luna chose this moment to show her other worldly nonchalance. "Hermione, have the Fairy Kelpies caught your mouth?"

"No!" Hermione squeaked again, her face reddening even more.

"Oh? Then why is there miscommunication between your brain and your tongue? You don't seem to want to tell Harry what exactly it is that you are thinking."

Harry was sure that Hermione had gone Gryffindor scarlet by now. As a Marauder spawn living with his Marauder godfather, he simply couldn't resist a prank, something that Sirius had coaxed him extensively in executing. Unfortunately, Sirius had not taught him the importance of not crossing his limits. Hermione's face was blood red, and now with a discreet twitch of Harry's wand, her hair turned to sparkling gold. Nobody could hold their laughter much and to a mortified Hermione, it seemed as if everybody was laughing at her, which they were. She turned even redder. Finally Minerva commented, "Miss Granger, I always knew that you were a true Gryffindor. You didn't have to go to such extreme lengths to prove your loyalties..."

Hermione looked at her in confusion, only to be directed to be directed towards the mirror. She checked her reflection, and saw Harry fighting a losing battle to not burst out laughing and shrieked. "HARRY JAMES POTTER!" she yelled. "You are an insufferable and incorrigible prat!" She spent the next few minutes throwing charm after hex after spell after jinx after curse at Harry who dodged them with rather consummate ease. It provided a very welcome diversion from the subject, and the adults understood that.

When she was finally spent and her anger was partially abated, she complained to Minerva, "You have to rein him in! He is becoming like those reprobates- those Weasley twins!" Turning to Augusta, she continued, "He will spoil Neville by association!" Finally, glaring again at Harry, she growled, "And you- you don't get off without explanation!"

"Oh come on now, Hermione! I was just helping you prove how much of a Gryffindor you are. And what's the deal about demanding explanation from me? I asked you why you were glaring at me at the Museum. You didn't answer, did you?"

That shut Hermione up, as she bypassed all tints of red straight to crimson all over again. Hermione Granger had met her match in words.

"As amusing as all this is, I think it is time that we left," interrupted Xenophilius as he glanced at his watch. He received several assents in response.

Just as they were about to leave, Harry was given a Hermi-hug by Jean. He looked at her with a question on his face. "We never thanked you, Harry. You fought that for Hermione. I- I don't know what to say," she said and then turned away her face as she blinked her shiny eyes. David shook his hand and clapped his shoulder with a nod. In that Harry learnt that he had the approval of Hermione's parents to at least be her friend.


	24. Chapter 24

**The Controlled Controller**

Over the next few days, Hermione, Luna and Neville made several trips to the Marauders' Place to complete the tasks assigned to them. While Luna and Neville used the Floo exclusively, Harry took it upon himself to pick up and drop Hermione by the Knight Bus. Hermione was unable to fathom how Harry would almost shout with glee as they held on for dear life while travelling by that godforsaken contraption. She herself didn't care for it, but it was easier than having her parents drive her to Surrey. She, however, became sick every time they used the Knight Bus. Being an honorary goblin had paid off for the childish side of Harry. When they had gone to Gringotts, with Luna (Harry was the poor man carrying the goods) he insisted on withdrawing only ten galleons at a time.

Initially Hermione thought that it was a matter of monetary control and helping curb the girls' overenthusiastic tendencies around books. That was until he had confessed that he actually liked the carts. Hermione realised that he was replacing the amusement parks that could have been a part of his childhood with the Knight Bus and Goblin carts. She had a sudden vision then of a thirty year old Harry hollering as he did in goblin carts. It wasn't so much out of question that Harry could grow up to be a man-child. On her part, the carts and the bus made her positively dizzy.

Between them, the girls found such books (Harry preferred non-fiction) as to cater to his interest in technomancy and enchanting. They had spent seven hundred and fifty galleons on books, when Luna had drawn the line. She argued that books and interests were updated regularly, so it wouldn't make too much sense to stock up the whole library in one go. While outwardly they had convinced Harry, both girls knew that it was very far from the truth. Luna was the youngest among them, but Harry sometimes seemed to act as someone even younger. Both girls had seen the sadness he had felt because he had been effectively told that they wouldn't be using the Gringotts carts anymore. They were almost expecting him to pout, throw a tantrum or something along those lines. To their partial relief, he only slunk away lugubriously. Sirius had suggested the purchase of certain very dark grey books, and the Godfather had been very clever about that- Gringotts were wonderful intermediaries.

Neville was given several pointers for non-magical plants- as well as several plants- by Jean, who had decided to take over a somewhat maternal role as far as Marauders' Place was concerned. Over the period of barely ten days, aided no doubt by the sight of the skeleton and the talk with the other elders who had visited, she had been more than cordial with Harry. Harry did not particularly mind it. It was distinctly different from Mrs. Weasley's "Hugs-Meals-and-I-am-your-Mother" charade, one of his most uncharitable descriptions of her. She allowed him his space, and recognised that he had the maturity and the intelligence to take his own decisions. She seemed to fall into the role of a favourite Aunt. Harry wondered whether his mother would've expected her sister to really be like Jean Granger.

Neville himself had come through with several well thought out plans to furnish the garden magically. In the end they had drawn lots and the plan with clever and judicious mix of medicinal and decorative plants had thankfully won. They worked together on the garden, Harry as an assistant. It was another thing upon which they bonded.

It had shaped up into the best ever summer Harry ever had across both timelines.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore returned to the British shores after the ICW convention in Brazil on the seventh of July. Nothing and absolutely nothing at all had seemed right, by the end. He had been having hallucinations and nightmares. Each of them portrayed severe starvation, hatred, physical, mental and verbal abuse by people calling him a 'freak'. It had put him totally off his game at the convention. He had prepared a wonderful pitch to shoot down the joint programme by a multinational group consisting of Native Americans, Welsh Druids, Aborigines, Maoris, Indian Yogis and several South-East Asian Monks that wanted to propose a course on international magics as a compulsory subject. Instead he had been terribly distracted throughout his speech and the motion had passed for consideration and further deliberations.

He couldn't understand how people could accept such a disaster in the making. Why couldn't they understand that it would destroy the Magical world as they knew it? Why didn't they understand that any budding Dark Lord would take inspiration from the project and end up becoming worse than Voldemort, potentially exposing the magical world to the muggles?

Then there had been really worse news. The magical government of Germany had moved into an agreement with the non-magical Chancellor to keep the non-magical counterparts of their Law Enforcement apprised of any crimes perpetrated by magical means to help trace any serious breaches of the Statute of Secrecy. While in all it was a worthy goal, the idea that the muggles wouldn't have their memories modified after the operation and instead would help keep track of the magical criminals made Dumbledore's blood run cold. Where on earth did they get such an abomination of an idea?

He realised his luck hadn't changed even when he returned home. Home, for Albus Dumbledore was a rather relative term. He did go to the family house in Godric's Hollow, but Hogwarts was the only place he could really call home. The place was a seat of power, something that was Albus' weakness. But all that was secondary to the problem he faced. Sirius bloody Black had escaped from Azkaban. How had the man done that? How had he remained sane enough to do that? When he had put the man into Azkaban to prevent him from meddling with his plans for the Potter boy, he was sure that it had sounded the death knell for the House of Black. Now that Harry didn't have to die, he would have to find other ways to ingratiate the boy to himself. An easy way was to coax him into his Lordships and telling him what everyone knew about Sirius Black.

He sat down wearily in his chair, his head in his hands as he contemplated this new problem. He had to move to the paperwork first. But first, he felt his aging body begging for rest. He was a hundred and twenty one years old after all. As he sat contemplating the situation, he realised that something was amiss. He kept trying to remember what it was, before suddenly realising the problem. All his instruments which were blood based and monitored the Potter boy, including the ward monitor, were destroyed. That would only happen if he had broken all the binds and taken up the mantle of the Head of House, or if he was dead. Each was an equally terrifying option for Albus. Why did the Fates hate him so?

As he sat with his head held in his hands, Albus spied the letter from Arabella Figg. His blood froze when he read it. He let out a string of obscenities that made several portraits of past Heads of school admonish him. She had informed him that the Dursleys had left and that the area of the house and two more around it had been converted into a garden. The boy was nowhere to be seen.

* * *

Harry's latest missive from Cassiopeia contained high praise from her for recognising that there might be more to and of the Horcruxes than Dumbledore knew. They had both shuddered at the thought of any missed Horcruxes. It would take only one little slip and the world would not exist. Harry wondered why and how he could have gone and gotten himself killed. Now that he looked at the way he got rid of the Horcrux in his scar, he found that even that was a most idiotic way. When he raised that with Cassiopeia, she grinned at him much like Sirius. She pointed out that during the hunt- which they had treated as nothing more than a camping trip- they had not taken along any resources. They could have taken along several Basilisk fangs to destroy the Horcrux. Then there was the little idea that they had no monetary or any other sort of resources with them. Just like the Essence of Dittany, they should have taken along a vial of Phoenix tears too. She pointed out that the scar stabbing was little worse than the mismanaged mission. Harry couldn't dispute that.

When he asked her for her latest instructions, he was ordered to burn Fawkes with Dragon fire. That had stunned him. He had tried whining, pleading, begging and just about every trick in the book to wheedle the reason out of her, to no avail. She had had the audacity to twinkle- _twinkle_ her eyes at him and smile mysteriously. She had told him just this: The Griffin and the Elder Dragon were not revered for nothing- they were the most sentient and wisest manifestations of magic as a power of judgement and as harbingers of punishment to evil. She also hinted that Fawkes had some darkness to him. She wouldn't even elucidate that.

His other order was to possess the Elder wand as soon as he could. That Harry could understand. Dumbledore had become obsessive about the myth of the Hallows. They were nothing more than useful magical objects. In fact the stone was a mere trinket, just as the wand was more of a feel-good factor in wizards' quest to power.

* * *

Fawkes flashed in at the Marauders' Place, where Minerva had taken up residence, revelling in the simple pleasures of gardening, and a bit of flying. It was well known of course, that she was a Quidditch junkie. The really harried and seemingly browbeaten bird screeched to a stop mid-flight in front of her, holding out the note in his beak. It was from Albus, and it made her lose her temper.

 _Minerva,_

 _I am in dire need of your assistance. As you may know, Sirius Black has escaped. But worryingly, I have lost all traces on Harry Potter. I fear that Black has captured Harry. It is for his safety that Harry has to stay with his relatives. Please report to me as soon as you can. We need to ensure Harry's safety and deliver him back to the Dursleys._

 _Albus_

Minerva was contemplating about the response and the course of action, when she felt a gigantic shadow looming over her. Before she could get her bearings, however, a jet of flames had shot from the dragon she knew was Harry, to the poor Phoenix, initiating a burning day. Shock overrode any other reaction. Why had Harry chosen to burn Fawkes? While she understood, and accepted, that Harry considered Albus an enemy, she couldn't fathom the same antagonism extending to the Phoenix, the foremost symbol of the light. What had Fawkes done so wrong, that he deserved the flames of punishment from the Elder Dragon?

Minerva looked down towards the ground where Fawkes was, and gasped. She had seen Fawkes on his burning days as a chick before. She had always assumed that it was just normal that over the years, the chick had started changing colour from a vibrant orange to black. As Padfoot and a newly retransformed Harry approached the bird, Minerva knew there was something big going on there. Fawkes was now larger as a chick, and back to being the brilliant fiery orange she remembered him to be, with a few dull orange and grey streaks. Harry kneeled down to the bird and gently lifted him up, cradling him in his palms. "Are you free now, Fawkes? Do you feel better?" Fawkes trilled happily in response.

"Harry?"

"Yes Granny?"

"Just what happened here?"

"I am not sure. I just felt the Dragon stirring when I saw Fawkes. I can understand what he is saying, of course. When I saw him flame in, I felt a gleam of darkness around Fawkes, and it terrified me. How can you have a dark phoenix? Moreover, a bonded phoenix mimics its master's magic. In other words, both Fawkes and Dumbledore have a gleam of darkness bound to them. It is not intrinsic. Albus Dumbledore and Fawkes were both, probably, disillusioned with the crude distinction between the perceived dark and light and its effectiveness in fighting the dark. They realised that punishment was necessary. But during the last war, in a fight against Voldemort himself, both were hit by a mind altering curse. Dumbledore is suffering from the magical equivalent of multiple personality disorder, and he has been fighting with and losing to the personality foisted upon him by that curse. Fawkes was bound by association. Fawkes himself, being under the spell, couldn't help him. If Fawkes hadn't been stricken too, Dumbledore would have not lost, as apparently, Fawkes' singing would have helped him. Fawkes says he doesn't know whether he can cure him now, but says that the manipulative facade we see isn't the real Albus Dumbledore in entirety! Dumbledore is a grey wizard, but was fighting against Voldemort."

Minerva was stunned. It was then that she realised that Albus had been behaving very oddly for some months back in 1979. That meant that whatever mistakes they were laying at his feet were probably not all really his to begin with. Minerva felt stricken. "But what about the Curse?" she asked. "It will destroy him! What have I done?"

Harry felt mounting horror serenading her. He tried to communicate the matter with Fawkes, who hadn't understood the matter. When the bird did, however, he trilled _happily_ , confusing all three people who were there to see him. He then trilled again to tell Harry what he was thinking. It was brilliant.

"Granny, Fawkes is asking you to do something about the curse. Will you?"

"But I can't! It can't be taken back!"

"He isn't asking you to. He wants you to redirect the curse upon the personality that is reigning on Dumbledore's mind. That way, it will weaken that malevolence and help the real Albus Dumbledore regain his strength. When Fawkes can go back to Hogwarts, he can keep trilling and singing to weaken the bind further. He says however, that the curse will affect both, but in different ways. The real Albus Dumbledore will feel remorse and fight to correct that, while the malevolence controlling him will weaken."

Minerva sighed in relief. _That_ was something she could do. She realised what Harry had been talking about when she had first invoked that Curse on Albus. She now understood how it could and would hurt her to see Albus in that bad a state, never mind the anger she felt. By redirecting the Curse, she would be able to assuage the guilt that she would feel when she saw him. She hastened to comply.

"I Minerva Rowena McGonagall, invoker of the Witches' curse on Albus Dumbledore, hereby ask it to rectify its target. May the darkness that rules Albus be destroyed by the Curse's virtue! Let the goodness in him that made a Phoenix protect him, win the battle for dominance and banish that which was the effect of another's cruel curse. So I ask and so may it happen!"

It did not require anything more than intent of the original caster. It only exacted a small price of magic, one that Minerva willingly paid. Harry brought out a chair for her to sit on, and then placed the bird in her hands. She felt very much at ease with that, and Fawkes showed that he wasn't far too different from Hedwig when he wanted attention. Minerva transfigured the chair into a rocking chair, and sat crooning an old Scottish song as she petted the bird, which would cast a smug glance every once in a while and tried to imitate her.

* * *

In the castle far to the North, Albus Dumbledore felt an incredibly excruciating bout of pain course through him, emanating from somewhere near his ribcage and spreading out throughout his body, right up to the tip of his rather luxurious beard. As he shuddered involuntarily to shake off the near debilitating pain, a part of him, dormant and suppressed for close to a decade after a terrible fight for dominance, stirred into wakefulness. As this part took cognisance of its situation, it realised what had happened. The battle would begin anew, and this time, the part could not afford to lose. There were too many wrongs to put right.

The real Albus Dumbledore was feeling the sort of remorse that would nearly destroy a person who was putting together parts of his soul. He could still feel the bond of the Headmaster to the castle as its steward, and found solace in that. What had he done?

* * *

Fawkes flamed into the Headmaster's office three days later, fully grown, to see his human pacing around the place. He had started feeling a flicker of the one bonded with as the Headmaster originally. Fawkes was the symbol of purity, and so was bonded to the castle as well and worked as its steward, to lead and guide in Dark Times. He could also feel the turmoil as the human fought with the imposter that tried to take over his body without being a different entity. It was painful to watch, but he knew that the human needed to be cured, just as the Great Elder had cured him. Yet that was a quandary. The Great Elder was still but a kid. Temporally changed yes, but he was still a kid. He needed to help the Great Elder help this human. He had sensed that the Great Elder did not trust this human and by association, him. That would be of no consequence. He was free, and now, needed to help free another.

He trilled a song of fortitude, of faith, of hope. It caused Dumbledore immense pain before he smiled wanly at the bird and thanked him. The process was going to be slow and arduous.

* * *

It was mid-afternoon when Minerva turned up at Hogwarts before making her way to the Headmaster's office. Once she was admitted in, she was ready to tear strips into Albus, but knowing what she knew now, she decided to keep calm as far as possible. She had sent Augusta and Amelia a letter regarding the burning of Fawkes, to keep them apprised of the event. Harry had been vociferous in his opposition of Albus in recent weeks and it might've slipped his mind to inform the two ladies of the change.

She found Albus wearily looking up at the ceiling with woebegone eyes. His entire demeanour screamed contemplation.

"Minerva."

"Yes?"

"You got my letter?"

"Yes. I did."

"I need your help Minerva. I need to help Sirius."

"What?"

"Yes. You heard me right. I need to help Sirius. He is Harry's godfather, just as you are James' godmother..." Albus faltered as his head drooped slightly. Then he looked up again, and his eyes had the manic twinkle. "We have to take Harry back to the Dursleys. It's for the best. We have to keep him there for his protection. We can't let Sirius..." he was cut off by Fawkes' trilling song. Albus screamed in pain.

Minerva was astounded to see firsthand the effects of the fight against the personality altering curse. Before she could say a word however, Albus came to his senses. Looking at Fawkes, he smiled and said, "Thank you, old friend. As I was saying Minerva, we need to help Sirius Black. He could've never betrayed the Potters..." he seemed perilously close to giving in to his alter-ego, when Fawkes took up a calming, happy song. Albus grimaced, before continuing, "Sirius was- _is_ Harry's ritually sworn godfather. You remember the night we- and by that I meant me and the other Albus- sent Harry to the Dursleys? He wasn't supposed to go there. I only needed Petunia's blood to set up wards around Sirius' house and get him to blood-adopt Harry, so that Harry could've grown up with the love of at least a father. There was never any need to keep him with the Dursleys."

Minerva made to interrupt him, but he raised his hand to stop her.

"Please, let me tell this to someone while I am lucid and still in control. I needed Sirius or Alice Longbottom to blood-adopt him, but I decided for Sirius for a reason. I knew about the Horcrux in Harry's scar. The real idea was to bind the magic of them both, and make them live as Muggles. With the blood-based protection on Harry reinforced by Sirius' love for his godson, the soul fragment would have weakened terribly. It needed magic to exist. With no ambient or personal magic from either of the two, it would have dissipated by itself within a year, or two, at the most. I also planned for Fawkes to do for Harry what he is doing for me right now, to ensure that Harry would not lose to the possessing spirit..." His breath seemed to come in heavy huffs, and Minerva could see what he was pointing to. "I need help Minerva. And only Sirius can help me now. The curse came from the Black family library. I may seem selfish, but I am losing Minerva! I keep seeing what the Dursleys did to Harry, and I can't bear it anymore! I hate myself!"

Minerva could see what the problem was. While she didn't like the situation at all, she sympathised with the man who had been, and if the real Albus won, still would be her friend. "Albus, all I can tell you is that Harry is under the Fidelius Charm. I can't tell you anything more. I will look into this matter about Sirius Black, and I'll also be contacting Amelia, Tiberius Ogden and Griselda Marchbanks to help you sort out any legalities. Please until then practice active Occlumency."

This was very important and Minerva needed to inform Harry about it immediately.

* * *

Neville and Mrs. Tonks had arrived that very morning for the Potions lessons just after Minerva left for Hogwarts. It was going to be a crucial point for them all. Neville and Harry needed to understand the basics of Potions, and Sirius and Harry needed Andy to help them. The treatment was to take place in the afternoon till past dinner three days a week. Neville had made his own addition. He had brought along the family time turner so that the pair of them could revise and brew whatever they'd learn that day. For the first entire week, she wouldn't let them touch the brewing apparatus at all. She had started off by going through several brewing techniques, the meaning of stirrings, most common reactants, buffers and the like. She also taught them the stasis charm. Twice, she made them make mistakes, and then made them use stasis charms and vanishing spells. Both were OWL level spells. It proved particularly useful for Neville, as he did not need to fumble with reading each step while simultaneously working on the brewing.

Potions, when taught in conjunction with Herbology and a touch of CoMC, turned out to be a fairly interesting subject for both. Neither knew that animal derived and plant derived ingredients had rules of interaction which were totally different within the aforementioned groups themselves. Then there were reasons why certain ingredients had to be harvested according to lunar cycles or zodiac signs. It was a fair explanation of why Potion making was a precise science. Neville found out, much to his surprise, that with the correct guidance, he was very adept at it. That led to a massive confidence boost for him. The next two weeks saw them teaming up to brew **_all_** the potions of the first two years. Harry was a fairly adequate brewer, but Neville revelled in it. The homework required them to research all the ingredients required for the particular potion that they would work on. That also meant discussions on alternative ingredients and procedures, cheats and tricks. In all, it was actual teaching and learning.

On her part, Andromeda was highly pleased to have two very enthusiastic and hardworking students. She found herself actually encouraging them to think of changes or improvements to potion recipes, discussing the finer points of each idea, and working along with the two to brew the changed potion. She also took them along to the lab that had been set-up solely for the purpose of brewing Wolfsbane Potion by the James and Lily Potter Memorial Institute for Research on Lycanthropy. Harry was pleased to see Remus' name on the list of registered members. She could see that while Harry had an odd sort of block against Potions that would mean that he wouldn't pursue it to Mastery, Neville was far more interested in the subject and had also taken to reading up on Chemistry to try and find similarities and analogies regarding end products. Harry had his company for the non-magical learning soon, too. The week in the non-magical world had fuelled his curiosity so much that he wanted to learn more about it. Harry's company- and with probably Hermione's too- only served as an encouragement for that pursuit.

Harry's History of Magic studies were deemed passable by Sirius, meaning that he would be allowed to apply for an early OWL in the subject. They had been rather ingenious about not letting Minerva find out about it. It was all done when they would retire to the Moony room after Minerva would sleep. Harry had decided, and Sirius concurred that as soon as he would get the useless subject out of his hair, things would be easier for him.

Then there was the matter of the animagus forms. Neville had settled for being a wolf at first, because it was a large canine. Harry had suggested that he find magical animals with a powerful link with the element of earth. After much deliberation he had decided on the Re'em. Harry had to think long before he realised it was the bovine animal with supernatural strength. The last that he suggested was the bear, just like Neville's Patronus. It was a testament to Neville's changes that he could easily accept trying the animagus transformations when once he would have baulked at the prospect. It was going to be a yearlong project, and Harry very much wanted Neville to succeed as early as he could in it- not only for his friend's sake but also for Moony's.

* * *

Minerva returned to Marauders' Place in a tremendous dilemma. On one hand she needed to tell Harry whatever Albus had said, and also report (report?) what she had seen firsthand what she had seen. It was difficult to come to terms with what she had seen, but it did not require a legillimancer to verify the truth. She had seen the effect of Fawkes' singing on Albus. What she did have qualms about was the fact that Fawkes had helped Harry when he stabbed the scar. Was it Harry or Tom Riddle who held the body?

She first of all called Harry to her. Holding him at wand point, she growled, "Prove that you are Harry James Potter." Harry blinked at her stupidly.

"Eh?"

"Come on now boy, prove that you are Harry Potter!"

If Harry hadn't been sure that Minerva wasn't cursed or impersonated by someone, as otherwise the wards would have warned him, he would have hexed her to pieces. He had long since decided that he wasn't going to roll over for anyone. "You prove that you are Professor Minerva McGonagall!"

They were at an impasse, pointing their wands at the other, till Padfoot, Neville and Andromeda entered the room. "What's going on here?" came the latter's authoritative voice.

"Stay away Andi. I want proof that this is Harry and not Tom Riddle. Fawkes had darkness in him, as it was proven. How am I to be sure that this is Harry and not Tom Riddle?"

Harry blinked and looked at her incredulously for a moment, before shaking with unsuppressed laughter and dropping to his knees, hollering uncontrollably. Whatever the reaction the others expected, it wasn't that. When he finally calmed down, he spoke with a stutter, "Her-Hermione always says that Wiz-Wizards a-and Witches have no common s-sense. I never thought that it would be this true!" He looked at Minerva again and laughed even more. Andromeda asked Minerva what the matter was with a raised eyebrow. When the older woman narrated the sequence of events, Neville couldn't help but snort with laughter.

"You are telling me, that you've doubts whether this git here is really Harry? Are you serious?" Padfoot interrupted with a bark, but quailed at Andromeda's glare. "Harry was accepted as the Potter, Gryffindor, Peverell and Slytherin Head of House only after verification. When they verify blood, they verify the innate magic, which is associated with the line. Let's assume that Mouldy-shorts had control of Harry's body- stop laughing Harry! Yes. So let's assume that. Now this Voldemort in Harry's body had the magics to turn into a Griffin and an Elder Dragon in response to the rings, and used the fire of punishment to free a phoenix from its dark bind. If he was Voldemort, who cursed or got a follower to curse Dumbledore, and somehow managed whatever Harry has managed, why'd he free Fawkes? You're forgetting that Harry also took an oath three times after he got rid of that stupid scar to prove that he is Harry. I don't see him dead."

Minerva got her turn to be dumbfounded. She then slapped her forehead with her palm in self-depreciation. "If we were at Hogwarts, Neville, I would award you points for that." Neville only bowed theatrically.

By then Harry had recovered. "So, what did Dumbledore have to say? We must send Harry to the Dursleys? It's for his safety? There are blood protections? Huh? Tell him to bug-"

"Mind your language, young man!" Minerva scolded. "No. He was surprisingly lucid half the time. When he was himself, he had quite a tale to tell." She told them all what had transpired in Dumbledore's office. As soon as she had started talking about Sirius, Harry had clutched on to Padfoot, not only to assure himself that his godfather was present, but also to stop said Dogfather from transforming.

"What is being done by the Ministry?"

"They are going to place dementors around the school."

"ARE THEY INSANE?" Andromeda thundered. "They are placing those soul-sucking fiends around school kids?"

"That's not a big problem, Professor Tonks. If they get too close, I can easily destroy them with my animagus forms' fires. No. The problem is what if what Dumbledore says is true. In that case, this Black person should not be harmed. I want answers. Let me say this, though. I am not in a mood to forgive anyone."

"All I want is for you to tell me if Sirius Black contacts you first in any way. He may be innocent, but he may also be deranged due to long exposure to the dementors." Minerva said it in the way of an order disguised as a request. Harry could comply with that- for Sirius hadn't contacted Harry first- so he nodded in agreement. He so very much wanted to say that Sirius was deranged regardless of any exposure to dementors, as it ran in the Black family, but decided that it would be prudent not to do so. It worried Harry to no end. This was an unnecessary complication.

* * *

That night after their HoM revision, Harry and Sirius discussed the strangeness of Albus Dumbledore.

"You didn't tell Minerva that I was here."

"Of course I didn't. I don't trust the old man, mate. Granny may be swayed easily, I will not. The plan goes on as we had decided. Well, maybe we'll keep Dumbledore I suppose Mrs. Tonks may have told her husband about these new developments, but I still want you to write to him separately. Even though I at one level find what I am hearing about the curse congruous to the facts, I have been burnt too badly to allow myself to become even a bit lax. Till the Death Eaters, and in particular, Snivellus are put into Azkaban or given the capital punishment, and you are exonerated, I am not going to hear or listen to a word from him."

"Doesn't it seem harsh?"

"Sirius, wasn't Mad-Eye your mentor?"

"Yes he was. So?"

"CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" barked Harry, making Sirius jump.

"Did anyone tell you that you are a right little git?" Sirius asked, once he had regained his senses.

"Everyone does, from time to time. But please, let's return to our real discussion. I am not, ever, going to forgive Dumbledore. That curse came from the Black Family Library. I remembered having read about it- you had scolded Hermione and me for that. What it really does is that accentuates the worst in a person. It means that irrespective of whether or not he was cursed, Dumbledore would've behaved in some way so that the end would have been just as manipulative. I don't like him, cursed or not, and he still needs to be done away with."

"Why did you attempt to mollify Minerva then?"

"We both know that she has been around him for so long that even a little hint of a probability of him being even partially innocent would make her feel guilty. I don't care what happens to him. I don't want his troubles on her conscience. By saying what I said, I merely made it seem as if she was working to save him from himself, thereby assuaging her guilt and preventing her from revolting outright against him. He has too much clout, as we both know. Having her not going against him blatantly will not make him belligerent, leaving us with time enough to work on any plans that we need to plan. You know how she was in the last timeline, didn't you? I don't trust her completely at all. I am only keeping the facade that I am because my Reaper told me to. Hell, I don't trust anyone at that godforsaken place. Forget about this timeline- how did every professor miss the telltale signs of abuse? If I went to that place year after year with the obvious debilitating effects of the summer, how did nobody ever recognise the symptoms? I frankly wouldn't put it past her to obey Albus, if he said that I getting hurt and beaten up was for the Greater Good. She might be a good teacher, but she is a piss poor educationist- she would have cared for a comprehensive betterment of my conditions beyond just my transfiguration marks."

"What do you call her 'Granny Min' for, then? Why foist that relationship on her, and yourself in turn if you don't particularly care for it?"

"It doesn't hurt me, and if it makes her a bit proactive at Hogwarts, I'd say that it is a fair exchange. It's the same with Hermione. Neither of them can defy authority. That is one of the main reasons why I don't trust her completely, yet. It's just the same with Hagrid. He dropped me off on a November night after stripping me off you. They are all Dumbledore's stooges, every single one of them. I will let it seem that they are in my confidence, but they will have to work really hard to really earn my trust. We both know that the grey area when dealing with any situation is where the maximum probability for success- one way or the other- is. If I have to trick and lie my way to doing what needs to be done, then so be it."

Sirius nodded grimly. This was something very similar to what Edgar, James and he had thought so many years ago. He felt doubly proud of his godson- he had grown up to make his mind, even if it took him several manipulations and two timelines to reach that stage. And now that he thought of Minerva's behaviour, he couldn't fault Harry's passive distrust. But he hated that Harry had developed such a cynical world view, almost one worthy of an Alastor Moody working towards earning power. They sat pensively for some time, each of them lost in their own thoughts.

"Anyway, I have more important things to ask. Does Amelia know your Animagus form?"

"No. Why?"

"Granny wants to call her here. I don't want to take the slightest chance. Before you ask why I did not protest, let me tell you this. If I protest against any steps she takes for an in depth investigation into your case, it will seem highly suspicious. So Chief Bones will be visiting Marauders' Place. So also, will her niece."

"Amy. I loved that woman, but I can't trust her, just as we can't trust Moony. But you are right. You have to let her come."

"Maybe you can observe her covertly?"

"That is something I can do, yes. By the way, have you visited your Houses' holdings and have the will read? I think we should do that. Once you leave for school, I don't want to live here. It'll be bad enough to be alone now, without it being in a place that I don't know beyond the first few kilometres around."

"No, I haven't. You're right. We need to go meet Biggem and take stock of things. I expect they will want me to declare the honorary member of the People thing too."

"Don't tell me you haven't done that yet!"

"Calm it. They know that I am not going to declare my Houses and the membership among the People until after I go to Hogwarts. I got that permission from His Majesty, the Lord Director. So that isn't a problem. So that's two things on your to do list. Write to Ted. And write to Biggem for an appointment, and ask permission for me to be present. I want to go use the carts again."

"Again? Sweet Merlin! They'll revoke the use of your vaults if you keep doing that..."

"Shut up, you hypocrite. I know that you and dad did the same. Biggem and Goldhaul told me."

"Stupid buggers," Sirius grumbled, as Harry laughed at his godfather.


	25. Chapter 25

A/N: all Harry-Sirius-Goblins conversations are in Glenskrad.

 **Gringotts- IV**

* * *

Harry sent the Patronus Messenger to Amelia the very next day, anticipating tremendous shock and surprise. He had also invited Susan along with her, if she wished, on behalf of Neville. While requesting Harry to ask her to bring Susan along, Neville had kept a meticulously maintained 'Spock' face, prompting Harry to realise that there could be more to it. He wouldn't mind that much. There would be several years in which to tease and torment Neville. Amelia had responded through the Floo that she had several appointments for the day and also for the following two days, so he could expect her only three days later. As a Sunday, it would have worked wonderfully, as Chief Bones would've a day off. As Mrs. Tonks gave Neville and Harry weekends off, Harry put Neville through his paces to work on his transformations then.

* * *

That Saturday, Harry and a cowering Sirius (in the dog form, he couldn't be seated on the bus, so under Granny Min's directions, the brutal looking dog was transfigured into a poodle) made their way by Knight Bus to the Leaky Cauldron. Hadrian could hardly stop his snickers at the little bows on the poodle's ears. He was entirely sure that Sirius was going to make a litany of every such prank and pay him back in the same currency. Till then at least Harry was going to have his laughs.

After the customary greetings where the Teller grimaced at the revoltingly pink coloured poodle that Harry held, he was shown to Biggem's office. Along the way, Harry learnt a more interesting facet of the Nation's social life. Goblins loved to tease, and they loved snarky replies and ruthless putdowns even more. Harry had been unable to respond for a long time as he stared at his guide in pure shock. It was just as they reached Biggem's office, that he responded to Goldball's comments where he likened Harry to female mundane celebrities and asked him whether his name was Harriet in private. "What about you, Goldball? I was initiated into basic health and biology of Goblins when I was inducted into the nation. I know for a fact that goblins have three... _balls._ You sacrificed all three and a chance to have your own sprogs just for having one ball of gold? Such a pity, that is." That had left the loudmouth spluttering, even as Biggem, who on hearing Harry's voice had opened the door, burst out laughing. Even Padfoot the 'cute' poodle yipped annoyingly.

"You are excused Teller Goldball. Thank you for initiating Lord Griffinheart here, the Great Elder and the Great One incarnate, into Goblin humour." Goldball did the closest Goblin impression of widened and shocked eyes before hurrying off. As Harry closed the door behind him, and greeted Biggem at the start of their customary Glenskrad conversation, Biggem cast a curious glance at the poodle. "I did know that Lord Presumptive Black was a dog animagus, but I still hoped he could be a bit... _imposing._ Still, I welcome you back, Mr. Black. Do make yourself comfortable and resume your human form."

Sirius did that and scowling at Harry, grabbed his godson in a headlock, grinding his knuckles into the boy's head. "Please ignore us for a moment, Master Biggem." Then resuming his torture of Harry, he growled, "I am going to make life hell for you, Prongslet! I swear you'll be looking like a Harriet by the time you reach Hogwarts!"

"You wouldn't dare!" Harry protested.

"Watch me, kid. I have several pranking years on you!" Then he turned to Biggem and bowed, "Thank you for your consideration, Master Biggem. I have failed to adequately discipline my godson."

"I can't really fault you, Mr. Black. Discipline was not something you were particularly familiar with, yourself." Grinning in the truly hideous manner of Goblins, he continued, "Perhaps we should start with our business today. Firstly, I wish to congratulate you on your escape from Azkaban and your renewed health. It takes guts to face those demons guarding the prison..."

"I beg your pardon, Master Biggem, but the lion's share of this exploit must go to Harry. He planned and managed things so well on his end, that I wasn't troubled by nervousness- something that'd have been a terrible handicap during the mission."

"Indeed, Lord Griffinheart did do a wonderful job with that, but I have seen that island. Every goblin has- it is part of the hardening experience, a rite of passage, if you will, for us. I have seen the only route which is slightly open as far as the dementor presence goes, and it is an extremely arduous way down. That is grit, and determination, that one of the People would be proud of. Don't underplay that."

"Thank you, Master Biggem."

Biggem waved that off. "Mr. Black, as far as business goes, you'll be pleased to note that Gringotts did not let the Black money lie idle. Well we couldn't touch the account as such, but no rule was ever made about the interest accrued. We diverted it through Gringotts accounts for investments and it has grown well," he said rather smugly. "As for your claim to being the Head of your House, as you were never convicted there is no conceivable problem as far as claiming both the Headship and Lordship. However, your exoneration, something that Griffinheart is obviously working towards, would lend it credibility."

Sirius looked at Harry, the question clear in his eyes. Harry didn't hesitate before replying. "Do it, Padfoot. For one, it will ensure that you will get a fair trial. We know the sort of bigots that sit on the Wizengamot. Seeing that a pureblood lord was treated the way you were, will be a kick up their collective arses. Once you do that, I am going to make you my protectorate. Ted's idea was excellent in that. The Protectorate Magic doesn't allow betrayal- automatic exoneration for you from the charge of being the betraying secret-keeper. Though producing Peter in court will work too."

Sirius nodded. He was struck by a sudden idea. "Pup, I want to blood adopt you. Do you consent?"

Harry narrowed his eyes at Sirius before nodding in acceptance.

"Master Biggem, before the Head of House Ritual, I want the adoption process done first, if you don't mind."

"It is a wise choice."

Biggem rang a bell and summoned two assistants. He gave them orders to set up the ritual room for the blood-adoption ritual. As the goblins scurried around readying up things, Harry leaned towards Sirius and asked sotto voce, "What do you want me to call you now?"

Sirius looked at Harry strangely before answering with a question. "What's wrong with Padfoot?"

"You'll be my father now, old dog," Harry replied with a roll of his eyes.

"And we both know that you are well past the stage where you need me as a father. Perhaps, if I had you from that night in 1981, I wouldn't have minded being called Dad, even if it would have made me feel bad and like a fraud taking James' place. Now, when you are taking care of me rather than me of you, it will be outright senseless. Padfoot it'll be. Add to that the fact that we have probably the most irreverent relationship possible," he replied with a one-armed hug.

"I've just one doubt, Padfoot. Once this goes through, I'll be Hadrian Potter-Black. Won't I? Won't it come as such on the school letter?"

Sirius scoffed at that. "Do you know how the letters are sent?"

"No."

"A registry which is synchronised with the school accounts and contains the names of the students, is responsible for the letters. It is updated with the students' academic record which is the last entry of their name for the year. The letter is sent once the fees for the next year are paid."

"So my name will remain Harry Potter for now?"

"Yes. You don't have to use the name Black-Potter if you don't want to, you know..." Sirius said with a sinking feeling.

Harry quashed that immediately. "I want to use it, but not before the trial. If I do, it will make me an accessory to prison break, something that I last knew to be a crime."

Sirius only responded with a chagrined nod. Further conversation was prevented by Biggem's assistants requesting their presence in the ritual room. The room was an ornately decorated hall (the decorations were bejewelled Runes), with several barriers, ritual diagrams and the like ready for use. They were shepherded into the last ritual chamber and were asked to kneel facing each other. A goblin handed each of them a vial of potions of some sort.

The master of ceremony, Rune-master Smasher (an anomaly as far as Goblin names were concerned) bade them both to cut across their right palms and drop seven drops of blood each into the potion vial they held and exchange the vials. He then went into a long chant, one that raised the feeling of love, protection and a familial bond in both. At long last, he turned to Sirius and asked,

"Do you, Sirius Orion Black, willingly accept Hadrian James Potter as your son in blood, by magic, by oath, by law and by the love of a father for his son? Do you willingly promise to protect and cherish him and to induct him into the family as ordained by magic- both by blood and by knowledge? Do you willingly give him rights as you would to a son born of your own flesh?"

"I do," Sirius intoned solemnly, and then at a gesture from Smasher, drank up the now emerald green potion.

"Do you, Hadrian James Potter, willingly accept Sirius Orion Black as your father by blood, by magic, by oath, by law and by the love of a son for his father? Do you willingly promise to obey his orders, to be loyal to him and to fight by his side when the need arises with all your strength and knowledge? Do you accept his place as you would accept your own father by birth?

"I do," Harry replied and drank up the now silver potion.

"Then I declare you father and son by blood from this day onward. So may magic's will be done!"

Harry's dark messy hair went blacker if that was possible, and became slightly longer, while his eyes gained flecks of silver. His demeanour changed to that of an aristocratic, understated elegance. He also gained a couple of inches in height, as did his hands grow in length. He immediately got up and walked over to Sirius and hugged his 'father'. Sirius could only smile.

"Rune-master Smasher, I have two questions. Can it be proven when exactly a person has been blood adopted?"

"No. It causes a change- if miniscule- in the overall genetic makeup of the adopted person, including the body's growth, as you have no doubt experienced, but it will all be naturally intrinsic."

"Wonderful!" Harry exclaimed. "The other question isn't a question, per se, but rather a request. Can you place a kind of compulsion charm centred on me so that anyone who sees me will not think there is any change in the way I look? If the time when Sirius blood adopted me can't be traced, we can let them assume that it was way back before his arrest. The compulsion will make anyone in contact with me to not dispute that."

Both Sirius and Smasher grinned. The boy was rather adept at letting situations develop or managing them to suit his ends- a worthy trait for one with whom the Nation associated. The charm was quickly done, and Hadrian Potter-Black stood tall and proud next to his godfather- his father too, now, by blood.

They returned to Biggem's office, Harry slightly uncomfortable in the clothes and shoes which did not fit him anymore. This was unforeseen and would be remedied later. Biggem, who had been witness to the ritual, returned mere moments later and congratulated the two.

"Now, let's get on with business: The Black Ring. "Do you attest on your honour, life, and magic that you are Sirius Orion Black, and that you come to claim your rightful positions of your own volition?"

"I do, Master Biggem."

"Then, in my position as the keeper of the heritage for the lineage of Black, I Senior Account Manager Biggem, do hereby call forth the ceremonial judgement of purity." A golden flash engulfed the table, as an ornate ceremonial knife with the hilt carved with a hooded snake and a ceremonial bowl with Runes etched onto it appeared in front of Biggem. "The magic of judgement demands to test the claimant. Sirius Orion Black, pay the required drops of blood." They had been expecting the procedure to be similar to Harry's, and were surprised when, as soon as Sirius held the knife, the hood came down upon Sirius' hand and bit him, drawing blood till its eyes were red, and then let the blood stream flow down the blade into the bowl. Like a good little totem of magic it gave a hiss upon completion. A platinum ring affixed with a snake coiled at the top, holding an onyx.

Sirius nodded to Biggem, who nodded back. "I, Sirius Orion Black, by right of inheritance and blood, claim all rights, oaths, possessions, privileges and items as well as debts owed by and to the House, fealty sworn and duties as befitting the Head of the House of Black. So I say, so I claim!" Magic swirled around Sirius, before settling, and perceptibly curing some of Sirius' ills.

"Congratulations, Lord Black. I hope you will be exonerated and engage in fruitful business."

"Thank you, Master Biggem. I have one more request. I wish that my son should wear the Heirs' Ring till I have a son of my own. Of course, that is if he consents."

Harry smiled. "My Lord, I will accept, of course. The condition that you should've children of your own still stands. I shall only be a temporary custodian. I thank you for your grace, My Lord." Sirius nodded. Harry had taken to his teachings well. They completed the naming of the Heir ceremony soon.

"I thank you for your time and patience, Master Biggem. I only wish to intrude upon your time for a little while more. Could you please tell me about the ownership of the Daily Prophet?" Harry gaped at Sirius open-mouthed. This was an avenue that'd escaped him.

"I will send you the details, Lord Black. I suppose there are instructions regarding the ownership?"

"Yes. I want funds transferred to Gringotts' accounts and want a majority share in the Prophet and its allied publications to be transferred over the next six months to me. Let us aim for forty two per cent in the here and now. Gain seven per cent per month. Control information- control the world," he said with a grin.

"I might heartily endorse that, once we are sure of the economic viability and the political consequences of this. It's indeed a good thing that you have returned. The Black family always gave us good business, but your incarceration and the subsequent Death of your Grandfather tied our hands as far as using the money is concerned. Do you have any instructions?"

"Master Biggem, I trust your judgement. Invest as you feel right, but don't forget the non-magical world. That is all I ask. Start off small till I am exonerated; then I'll give you carte blanche over the investments. I would also like you to increase your commission to 10%. From the five% you currently earn." That was it. Sirius had said the magic words. Increase the commission. Biggem was now a powerful ally. "And lastly, if I could so trouble you, I'd be grateful if you sent me the marriage contracts for all daughters of House Black, starting from Dorea Potter nee Black. I wish to confirm that none of the stipulations have been voided in any manner." He saw Harry's questioning look from the corner of his eye and mouthed "later".

"It will be done, Lord Black. Is there anything else?"

"No, Master Biggem. We have imposed on your time for quite a long. Thank you for your time and consideration. May your gold grow and your enemies fall with honour at your blade." They took his leave as they started towards Goldhaul's office.

"Did anyone tell you that you are sneaky, Padfoot?"

"Occasionally, yes," Sirius replied, almost preening.

"What was your idea for the Prophet?"

"I remembered what I saw in your memories. I realised that the biggest newspaper was either held by some Death Eater, or by a politically weak person. As Lord Black, and as the godfather to Lord Gryffindor-Potter-Slytherin-Peverell, I would be neither. In essence, we can control information flow to destroy the Death Eaters."

Harry fell to his knees. "Oh Padfoot of the Marauders, I am not worthy!" He stood up, and then grinned, his eyes alight with mischief. "I've already got an idea for an article."

Sirius merely raised his eyebrow.

"Well, you will have absolutely nothing to do once I leave for Hogwarts. I want you to get a complete list of only purebloods that were killed while fighting the first war. Tom Riddle was not a pureblood, but had delusions of being one. We need to show them that purebloods killed other purebloods, destroying their own way of life."

"A worthy plan, but I wouldn't mention Riddle's origins. It would be misconstrued as a half-blood lording over purebloods. We could release that information, but not for many, many years. It should be at a time when Tom Riddle will be at most a gruesome footnote."

Harry had to agree to that.

* * *

They soon reached Goldhaul's office, where they found the elderly goblin lounging around- _listening to the Beatles!_ When he saw them he just waved them over genially, before realising his situation and resuming his fierce, prim and proper goblin demeanour. While Sirius and Harry struggled to keep straight faces, Goldhaul glared at them. "I suppose business will have to wait till you have both had your moment of fun," he said with heated resignation. Sirius and Harry wasted no time in chortling mutely before bringing their mirth under control.

"I am sorry, Master Goldhaul. It was just difficult to ever imagine you indulging in something as mundane as the Beatles."

"I'll have you know, Griffinheart, that Goblins have a rich culture. The stern warrior facade that we have is true, yes, but we have to direct it to our customers to ensure that we are treated with respect. Otherwise, we do engage in spots of muggle fun. I'll have you know that Gringotts routinely funds several sports clubs, musical bands- though I never know why they are called that, and has a film producing arm too. The rider is that the ones being funded should know about the magical world."

"Do you cater to non-magical people?"

"Sorry?" asked Goldhaul. It was disconcerting for a goblin to be put on the back-foot about business of any sort.

"Does Gringotts provide banking solutions to non-magical people?"

"We would, if we weren't bound by the law regarding such interactions. We at Gringotts can hardly interact with muggles, can we? It will destroy the Statute of secrecy."

Harry looked at Goldhaul with a wholly amused smirk, something that the Goblin did not like at all.

"You get away with a lot of impropriety, Griffinheart," Goldhaul grumbled. "What's got you smiling like a goblin that has drunk my grog?"

"It is amusing," replied Harry, "that the Nation subscribes to Wizards' law, and does not find the simple way of getting around it."

"You better explain yourself."

"Humans, Master Goldhaul, the answer is humans. You employ humans as curse-breakers and intermediaries for non-magical investments. Why not employ newbloods and squibs as the non-magical faces of your entry into the banking sector in the mundane world? They aren't bound by the laws, if they want to work in the mundane world, are they? Start off by offering special offers to parents of half-bloods and newbloods, as they know magic, and let them reap the profits of your acumen. Every person likes making money, so the word of mouth advertisement will push your business to very high profits."

Harry could see that Goldhaul was doing his absolute best to _not gape_ at Harry. Evidently, Gringotts hadn't done that. "I will pass on your recommendations to the Lord Director, post haste, my Lord."

Harry only raised an eyebrow, before answering. "Do not be angry, Master Goldhaul. The Lord Director did tell me to be his eyes and ears in a world that remains, unfortunately, ignorant of such a fine race as yours. And I believe we had decided to dispense with the 'Lord' and 'my lord' appellations."

"Yes, we did do that," agreed Goldhaul. "I suppose your suggestion was not the only business that you had with me today?"

"No. Please forgive my atrocious manners, Master Goldhaul, Lord Black. I was caught up in the moment. Master Goldhaul, this is Lord Sirius Orion Black, lord of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black, and also my father by blood. My Lord, please meet Senior Accounts Manager Goldhaul, Account Manager for the Potter Accounts, and I hope I can say, my friend, personally." Both smiled widely at that.

"Master Goldhaul, I had three matters of discussion today. Firstly, as you can see, Lord Black is free, and has assumed his duties as my family and guardian. I suppose that the betrothal, business or legal contracts that you had pointed me towards may be brought to his attention. I would like his guidance, as well as yours. Master Biggem has some documents to send to Lord Black. If it suits you, I would be thankful to you."

"Indeed. That shall be done."

Harry then asked for a piece of parchment and a quill. He wrote:

 ** _The Marauders' Place can be found at #2, 4, 6, Privet Drive, Little Whinging; Surrey._**

"It is customary among humans to invite their friends to their homes. I would be very honoured to extend my home's hospitality to anyone of the Nation. I will be available at your convenience, assuming of course that I haven't been insensitive to the beliefs and customs of the people in any way." Goldhaul nodded. He had long since decided not to be surprised by Griffinheart's actions. He simply wasn't like other wizards. This was respect, and Griffinheart sure knew how to get past the defences of a goblin too.

"I thank you, Griffinheart. It is refreshing to see your attitude, against that of other witches and wizards."

"I said it before, Master Goldhaul. I think of you as a friend, and I am simply extending the same courtesy to you and the Nation. I would like to do so for the Lord Director too, but I believe it will be a tremendous breach of propriety."

"That it would be," Goldhaul acknowledged. "But don't worry about that. The gesture will be acknowledged in the spirit in which it has been made. Now, what's the next order of business?"

"I would like to go through my properties and holdings. I would also like to see my parents' will."

"Of course; do wait while I retrieve the ledgers. I can't show you the Will, however. I need a Ministry licensed executor- one who is allowed to execute the Will in case of disputed or long-dormant wills. Though once you take up oath of office in the Wizengamot, you will be allowed to demand it."

While Goldhaul went around doing just that, Harry was struck by an idea. "Padfoot, do you think it would be a bad idea to ask for a secure vault where we can use Fiendfyre without any ill effects?"

"I don't think we should ask them for a vault to store Tom's Horcruxes in, frankly. It would be pushing the matter a bit too far. No, I don't think we should do that. What I think we should do is get a secure place, once I am free and get them to ward it. I would go so far as to say that we should erect blood wards and passwords that only those whose blood powers the ward know. You won't know mine, and I won't know yours."

"That makes sense."

Sirius suddenly smiled deviously. "Well, what would you think if we bought the Riddle Manor for that purpose? It will be a right little prank. Remember, he was holed up there the last time around. He will go insane in that baby form, if that's how he decides to return, when he sees that he'll be unable to get the trinkets and also lost his hidey hole."

"That'd be too blatant, even if I like the idea. Still it is something we can look up. I just hope that the Potter Grimoire can help us. I am truly not looking forward to breaking the wards on that Gaunts' family shack. I keep remembering what happened to Dumbledore."

Sirius looked rather green as he too remembered Dumbledore's hand. He felt squeamish.

Goldhaul soon returned with the ledgers, and set them on the table in front of the duo. "Lord Potter, please press your ring here. Sign with this blood quill next to it..." The process was repeated for all four ledgers to be able to open either of them. Once he was done, Goldhaul set them all aside for their perusal.

Sirius was conversant with the Potter Ledger, having signed in it once before as an authorised signatory the day he had been made Harry's godfather. The idea was that if the worst happened, the two would live till the danger passed in any of the Potter Houses. There was the Potter Manor by the sea coast just north of Aberdeen. There was also the cottage in Godric's Hollow which was apparently one of a quartet, bought for each member of the Marauders. The next entry made Harry go almost insane with laughter- #8, Privet Drive, Little Whinging; Surrey- Mrs. Figg's place. Sirius looked at Harry, then at the entry and he too couldn't stifle the snort that escaped him. There was a duplex apartment barely a street away from the Arsenal Railway Station (Gillespie Road), evidently for their club loyalty. Harry could feel a twinge of it himself- it would be an acquired taste, but still something he would inherit from his parents.

That apart, Harry had inherited from his grandfather something that he would eventually find priceless. Apparently, Charlus had been one, big car lover. He had collected legends across decades. There was a 1936 Rolls-Royce Phantom-III, V12 limousine and a 1931 Bentley 8.0 litre, both in the British Racing green. There were four Jaguars up to 1980, a pair of Aston Martins, two more Bentleys, three Morris' and a wartime Jeep. Sirius wept- _wept_ when he read that. "He had promised me he would leave me the Jeep! I will duel you for it!" he growled amid mock tears. There were also 6 million galleons in cash, and ten million more in investments and holdings.

The Gryffindor properties weren't as much material. It was mainly the notes, experiments and prototypes of the earliest versions of the pensieve, several books on Arithmancy (Harry was shocked to find that Godric taught Arithmancy and transfiguration), the Lion's Den south of Wrexham- which was under a Death Fidelius, and the sword and the shield which had gone missing. The Gryffindor Grimoire was placed in the Den.

The Slytherin property- the Herpetarium, was a Manor in Whitehaven proper. That was all there was on land. Slytherin had been a huge fan of placing ships in bottles- but had extended it magically to a little shy of madness. He had decided to take things a step further by shrinking _real_ ships part by part and fitting them in, then sealing the whole thing up with an unbreakable charm. The coup de grace was what he decided to do with them thereafter. Placing the bottle on water, would restore the ship to its original size. And he had collected _fifteen_ of those. Harry **_owned fifteen_** ** _ships._**

"Are you reading what I am reading?" he asked Sirius.

"I am, but it is a lot to take in. Seriously, what _was_ the man thinking, collecting fifteen ships? It is not really a stretch then when they called him insane," he replied with not a little shock.

"I am learning more about my ancestors than I ever bargained for," Harry muttered.

"I don't get it. I thought they owned the Castle and lived there," wondered Sirius with a frown.

"No. The Castle has always been of...itself," Harry automatically responded with the Rings' knowledge. "But I can totally understand why. Lots of angsty teens and magic wouldn't have been a good thing for their continued sanity."

"Oh. Yes I can see that," said Sirius with a contemplative look. "A nice gentleman comes along and says, "Thou doth not respondeth to my request for an amorous fumble," to which the Lady replies, "Thine request asketh for my chastity! I yieldeth not!" Then both get angry and hexes start flying. I can absolutely see why the four founders would want to get away from that."

They then took up the Peverell ledger. It listed only two properties. One was a large house where the Shrieking Shack now stood. The other property made Harry shout and dance about in glee. It was the Gaunts' family shack. Of course it was a large property by the standards of the late sixth century, but years of penury had turned it into what it was now. He was joined a moment later by Sirius' shout of happiness, before he settled down to a confused expression, his hands still held aloft. "If Salazar was the Peverell heir, and the Gaunts were Salazar's heirs, how did the Gaunts end up with the Peverell properties?"

"I believe that may be a similar quandary to what Harry finds himself in," interrupted Goldhaul. "Harry has to, by law, separate the lines. Salazar might have married a witch for the Peverell line who was a blood snob herself, or was a pureblood witch who got jealous of his wife for the Slytherin name, Arlene, who- as Griffinheart told us- was a newblood. Blood purity issues may have their genesis, and may have perpetuated down the Peverell line, after all. Again, the Gaunts' claim that they were the last descendants of Slytherin wasn't misplaced at all. Unfortunately, the Slytherin may have gone extinct in the male line sometime in the intervening period, and there were no counters to the rising blood purity ideals of the only living _male_ descendants of Slytherin- the Peverells, who may have changed the name as their fortunes failed or passed on their ideology to the Gaunts when they became extinct in the male line again."

"That probably makes sense," Harry acknowledged, but Sirius cut him off.

"No. It doesn't. If it were so, Harry could have claimed the Peverell line by conquest, and not Slytherin's. We already know that Harry is **_a_** blood heir of the Peverells through Ignotus- not **_the_** blood heir, as, if what Goldhaul says is true, that'd be Voldemort. How did he claim the Peverell line by blood and the Slytherin line by conquest?"

"Why do these things have to be so convoluted?" Harry groaned.

"Maybe they aren't, Griffinheart," Goldhaul replied kindly. "You have encountered the sentience of family magic with the Gryffindor ring. Is it so much of a stretch that the Slytherin ring may be the same? It is possible that a Lord Gaunt killed the last Lord Slytherin, and tried to claim both the lines. It is **_probable_** **,** I should say. It is also probable that when Riddle lost his body all those years ago, the Peverell magic considered him dead, irrespective of whether or not his soul had left the mortal plane. As he had no **_blood_** heirs himself, the Peverell line came to the last living descendent- you. You claimed the Peverell Headship before you claimed the Slytherin Headship. The sentience in the Slytherin Ring- which, if I remember right, held a conversation with you- judged you to be a worthy ring-holder, and allowed you to claim the mantle."

" ** _That_** makes sense," Sirius said, nodding in agreement, prompting Goldhaul to smirk a bit.

"Now that we have settled this rather inane matter, what was it that you actually wanted to ask me, Griffinheart?"

"It relates to the Peverells and Gaunts and Slytherins, actually- more specifically, Tom Riddle. For one, I am pretty sure that Tom lied that night in the Chamber. He was a greedy and amoral person. He may have started out with a plan for seven soul pieces, but I have a feeling that he may have eventually settled for more- nine or thirteen. Nine, though not arithmantically a significant number, is a number related to regeneration. Then there is thirteen, a number powerful in myths and Arithmancy. Moreover, I am also pretty sure that I have found one."

That caused Goldhaul to slack a bit. "I can't fault your logic. But if you have found one, I will have to inform the Lord Director."

"That was my intention, but I wasn't sure how I was supposed to approach him. Actually I have not one, but two. My Peverell Ring just told me that there is one in the Gaunt Shack."

"Outstanding!" exclaimed Goldhaul. "That's wonderful news indeed! Would you like the audience of His Majesty?"

"I am not sure. You see, Sirius is very sure that the Black family library contains knowledge about these abominations. I intend to first check all the Grimoires that I have inherited for more knowledge. What I would appreciate, though, is if you would be kind enough to keep the Lord Director updated on my behalf. With his permission, I would also like to tell Chief Bones about it. One of the things is in the British Magical Museum, in the section where they house the artefacts of famous personalities. The other as I told you, is in the Gaunt Shack- that is the one I am not worried about, as it has Parseltongue wards, so only Riddle and I will be able to access it."

"That shall be done. I will relay this to the Lord Director immediately. Expect him to command your presence, however."

"I'll be available at his convenience," Harry replied with a bow. "The last thing that I need to discuss is regarding the monetary possessions of the Peverell, Slytherin and Gryffindor accounts. They are practically bankrupt accounts. As of now, I want fifteen percent of profits diverted to each of the three accounts. You will now take ten percent. The remaining forty five will go back to the Potter accounts. I need you Master Goldhaul, to collaborate with Hightab, Rubyclaw and Biggem to invest repeatedly and aggressively, and increase the monetary holdings...Goldhaul are you alright?" The Garnarukro had started gaping at some point above Harry's head. Harry was really scared. "GOLDHAUL!" he yelled.

"Huh?"

"What's the matter with you?"

"Do you know what you said? Ten percent? Ten percent of the profits for us?"

"Yes, Sirius gave the same to Biggem," Harry told the account manager in barely veiled confusion. Biggem had not reacted this way after all.

"I assure you that those will be the four richest vaults from now on!" the goblin gushed. "You spoke our language! Be ready for the riches!"

Harry and Sirius exchanged amused glances. They decided to take leave of Goldhaul. Whatever had gotten into him was certainly big – no Garnarukran nearly lost his senses. It was just not done.

"And don't just take my suggestions for mundane banking under advisement. I want it done. Half of the money should be invested on the non-magical side!"

"Yes Griffinheart! It shall be done."

"Good. Because otherwise I will simply withdraw and transfer the money to mundane account and have it invested there..." It was a good long and heavy stick to go with the carrot.

"Understood," responded the Garnarukro tersely. He hadn't been given too much time to celebrate.

"Thank you, Goldhaul. I should take your leave now. May gold encrust every nook and cranny of your home, and may your enemies tremble in fear at your name."


	26. Chapter 26

**Siriusly, Amelia**

Harry had received almost immediate summons from the Lord Director. He had barely been home for an hour, when a Gringotts' Eagle (the herald of the Royal Summons) had perched down on the window-sill. The Director had been **_very_** pleased with both the suggestion regarding the expansion of business, as well as the news regarding the bits and pieces of Riddle. Harry had requested audience with him again so that he would be able to invoke the Goblins' Secrecy when he told Chief Bones about the things, which would ensure that the knowledge would be inaccessible to Chief Bones if she decided to tell anyone else about it without Harry's express permission. With the agreement for that in place, Harry had returned to Marauders' Place once more. He wrote letters to Neville, Luna and Hermione, as well as the Weasleys, for good measure. He couldn't let anyone become suspicious about him.

Right at 10 o' clock the next day, Chief Bones and Susan followed Marius Greengrass and Ted Tonks into Marauders' Place by Floo. Harry, with the four House crests on his robes stood to attention, waiting to welcome the guests. Ted and Marius came in first, and as they stood to a side brushing soot, the Floo flared again to reveal Chief Bones and Susan. Propriety dictated that those of rank would be greeted before the unranked.

"Good Morning, Lady Regent Bones, Heiress Bones. I welcome you to my humble abode as Head of Potter, Gryffindor, Slytherin and Peverell, and provide you the hospitality and protection of my Houses." He said it in the easy, elegant yet formal manner (which he had lately found easy to slip into) that Sirius had drilled into him with a bow, before kissing the two ladies on their right knuckles chastely. Chief Bones nodded approvingly, while Susan blushed lightly. He held their gaze each for a moment before turning to the two lawyers. "Solicitors Tonks and Greengrass, I am delighted to have you as guests at the Marauders' Place." He shook their hands firmly and swiftly. "Please allow me to present you to Professor McGonagall, who has requested your presence, Chief Bones." That he did not speak anything about the two lawyers, but knew them all the same and welcomed them, was something that Amelia did not miss.

They came into the sitting room, and Neville, who was waiting with Minerva, bowed to the Bones ladies and kissed their knuckles with a little stutter, a mistake for which- if he recognised the signs right- he was going to get a not so gentle ribbing from a deviously smirking Harry. Once they were all seated, Harry took their leave so that they could discuss the matters among themselves and asked to be called if he was wanted. He showed Susan around the House, and then excused himself stating that it was possible that he would be called in. As Neville had practically become a real brother of a sort for Harry, and had started to think of Marauders' Place to be just as much his home as Harry had asked him to, he allowed that. In hindsight he shouldn't have. He was giving Harry more ammunition against himself, and Harry was a Hell of a prankster, when he got in the mood.

Before she started, Amelia asked the question that had been bothering her. "Ted, Marius, may I know why you are here?"

"Ah yes. I anticipated that question. But before that happens, I am going to ask you to keep patience, young Amy, and let Minerva speak first."

"I've been telling you ever since I was in the first year and you in your sixth to stop calling me young Amy!"

Ted only snickered. Amelia shook her head fondly. He had taken all the youngest students in Hufflepuff under his wing, having understood the ravages of war that loomed over England. He had helped them all along over the course of the next two years, and had helped them get at ease in Hogwarts. He teased them and cajoled them to form several habits which still proved useful to the day. It had been a long-running quarrel between them about him calling her young Amy.

"Well, I suppose that we should press on with the matter," Minerva interrupted dryly. "Amelia, I believe this is particularly important for you, both as Miss Bones, and as the Head of DMLE."

"Oh?" Amelia's curiosity was perked up sufficiently enough.

"Yes. This is about Sirius Black."

"What about him?" Amelia had stiffened at his name.

"Well, I have to give you a little back story about Albus, before I tell you." She then told her everything that had transpired in the Headmaster's office and also the face-off between Fawkes and Harry. Somewhere during the narration, she summoned tea for them. Finally, when she was done, Amelia looked at her with tearing eyes.

"You are telling me, that all this time, Albus **_knew_** that there was a person put into Azkaban without trial; that said person was innocent, and did nothing? I WILL STRANGLE HIM BY HIS OWN BEARD AND KILL HIM!" she shrieked. Harry, who had taken up position on a chair that Sirius had conjured just outside the living room, winced. And so did Padfoot.

"Yes. But I still think that you should not judge him harshly..."

"I shouldn't judge him harshly? Minerva, are you out of your fucking mind? Harry was- is Sirius' godson. When and not if, Sirius and I had been married, he would have been our son. I lost them both. Sirius and Harry lost everything- **_everything_** , Minerva! And for your information, the curse you talk about is a standard criminal manipulation curse that I have used twice myself. While it is true that it came from the Black Library, because Phineas Nigellus invented it, its knowledge is not exclusive to the Black family Grimoire. I have cast it myself, twice. It is a standard procedure for bringing in the most quietest and surreptitious of criminals by near about forcing them to commit crimes. Listen, and listen well. **_It only brings out the worst side of the person and accentuates it. That is what Albus is. He destroyed my chance at having a family!_** "

Minerva sat aghast at the outburst. She couldn't say that Albus had lied, because he hadn't. He had only said that in a way that implied that Black alone could help him. Albs had manipulated her again. He had told her what he had only for his own selfish ends. Harry could see the way it was affecting Minerva.

Amelia could see that too. She turned to Ted and Marius. "How come you two are here?"

"We were employed to represent Sirius. As you know he is Andromeda's cousin and she was never convinced of his guilt. I believe she might have had a discussion about Sirius with Harry, and the two may have chosen to keep things secret. I was invited here."

Harry had to hand it to the man. Put together, it implied as if Andy had put him to the task, and Harry, upon hearing what was to be discussed, had invited him. It was easy in emotionally charged moments to take a few implications, let people make assumptions based on them and let them run away with those assumptions. Even the discussion between Andromeda and Harry was a fact- with the slight difference being that Harry had told her, but it was a discussion all the same. The man would've done well in Slytherin.

"But I don't get this. Harry remembered Alice being his godmother. He would have remembered Sirius being his godfather too, wouldn't he?" Minerva countered.

Amelia and Minerva looked thoughtful at that, while Ted fidgeted a bit- quite a bit. Harry looked at Sirius. "Do I go for misdirection or do you want to lay the cards on the table? It's your call, Padfoot. Amelia's certainly gone mad."

Sirius thought about it for a moment. "If you are called, go out. We will see how the things progress. If I feel that it is necessary to go all out and concede our position, I'll bark, and you divulge as much as you want to before I come out." Harry nodded. Internally, Sirius was veering too much towards telling everything to Amelia. That would mean Minerva would know everything, and apart from being able to meet Amy, he could instigate prank wars with the Pup, who had become far too serious. He wasn't well enough to do that before Minerva came over, and couldn't do so with her present.

"Harry!" Minerva called out. And Harry dutifully summoned himself into her presence.

"Yes Professor?"

"I believe Lady Regent Bones and I have some questions to ask you. I ask you to answer me truthfully."

"Yes Professor." She hadn't said anything about it being the exact truth. He could get away with giving her the same cock-and-bull story which was essentially a conglomeration of facts tied together to cause a clever misdirection.

"Did you, as you remembered Alice Longbottom being your godmother, also remember Sirius Black being your godfather?"

"Yes Professor."

"Could you describe actions you took thereafter?"

Harry smiled. She never said he had to tell her all the actions he had taken. "Yes. I remembered Sirius Black. I took cognisance of the fact that he had not been around- neither of my godparents had been. I checked through all the old editions of the Daily Prophet published in the week before and after the Halloween of 1981. I realised that there were several discrepancies in the whole case surrounding Mr. Black." (Sirius cringed out of sight at Harry addressing him that way.) "So I employed the Legal firm of Tonks, Greengrass, Doge and associates, the same firm that I had placed on a retainer, to look into the matter via Gringotts."

"You said something about discrepancies. What were those?"

"I apologise Chief Bones. As the client, I had to and did tell the advocates about my suspicion. I however, am not legally bound to discuss my views about the case with you- rather I am within my rights to decline any more information, under the advice of my lawyers." He glanced at them and they nodded. Chief Bones and Minerva frowned.

"I suppose there is nothing I can say against that. It is just that if you had been forthcoming with any suspicions, it would've been easier to ascertain the truth," Chief Bones replied very condescendingly.

"I am sure that would have been the case Chief Bones," Harry retorted smoothly. "However, in light of my suspicions and all that I have seen of the Ministry, I must record that the Houses of Potter, Gryffindor, Peverell and Slytherin have lost confidence in the current administration. Should we find the elusive Mr. Black, there are plans that are intended to be set into motion. To put it in the way of the non-magical people, I would suggest that you sit back and enjoy the show."

Ted nodded with a smile. The boy had veered the subject away from Sirius, and even Amelia, dedicated to her work as she was, couldn't help but want to salvage whatever passed for peace, and a stable Ministry was necessary for that. The boy was powerful, politically, and would use it for his benefits without compunction.

Harry didn't realise that Neville and Susan had returned when he said that. "How can you be the Head of House Slytherin?" Susan asked sharply. "I thought you weren't the Heir of Slytherin?"

"That is true, Ms. Bones. I wasn't the Heir of Slytherin then. I am now. You see, the person who was parading around as the Heir of Slytherin was a liar. He was actually the Heir of Peverell through Salazar Slytherin, and we are blood related. It so happens that for line continuation, Salazar took two wives. His line, as far as the Slytherin line goes, was extinguished, and Gringotts and I think that a member of his Peverell line did it, to try and claim the Slytherin Lordship for themselves. The Slytherin Ring is quasi-sentient, and did not choose a traitor to the ideals of the House of Slytherin. The claim for conquest though remained with the Peverell line, and I could claim it, as the last living descendent of the Peverells."

"But that means you are worthy of the ring! It means you believe what Slytherin did!" Susan countered.

"I would say I do, to an extent..."

"THAT MEANS YOU SET THE MONSTER IN THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS UPON YOUR FELLOW STUDENTS!" Susan thundered.

Harry simply raised an eyebrow at Susan. "Ms. Bones, I would reconsider those words, if I were you. Evidently, nobody would ever accuse you of being a Ravenclaw or a logical thinker..." he said with harshly and snidely, causing both the Bones ladies to bristle.

"That is not very nice Harry," Minerva scolded. "Apologise to Ms. Bones immediately!"

Harry glared and glowered at her, but nodded. "I apologise, Miss Bones. I should not have made uncharitable references, even indirectly, regarding your intellect." Amelia huffed. That was a backhanded apology if there was ever one. "I patently remember having told you that the person parading as the Heir of Slytherin was not chosen because he was treacherous to the ideals of Salazar, my noble ancestor. Salazar Slytherin was no blood-snob. His own mother and wife- presumably of the Slytherin line- were newbloods. Salazar, and his brother in all but blood, Godric, wanted nothing more than to protect **_all_** magical blood. You should realise that the period saw magic being viewed as a curse by the Devil on the mundane. They believed that the newbloods needed to be taken away from their families to protect them. The very idea that Godric and Salazar fought was and is a farce. The House Rings, which cannot lie, say that they fought all the time, but that was due to their rather ingenious proclivity towards pranking. You could imagine the two as Fred and George Weasley, pitted in a prank war against each other..." he told them with a smile. Everyone was listening wide-eyed, the subject of Sirius falling by the wayside.

"Merlin!" exclaimed Amelia.

"But, but..." Susan was bewildered and confused. Everything they had known about the founders was a lie. "But the books say that Salazar left because he had a fight with Gryffindor!" she complained.

"That is but a line that describes not an ounce of the truth. You see, the two had a last prank war, which Salazar lost, and Godric teased that Salazar was getting old. Given the fact that Salazar was one hundred and forty, it was true, and Salazar took it to heart and left- to find new teachers who would continue the legacy of the Founders."

"That was all?"

"That was all," Harry confirmed.

"But Slytherin is all about cunning and ambition..."

"Cunning and ambition are not negative traits, per se, Ms. Bones," Harry told her gently. "I was sorted into Slytherin, very nearly. Being a Slytherin is all about being a survivalist, self-preservation and ambition to succeed by any legal way. I need to have a conversation with Rudolph when we get back to Hogwarts."

"Who is Rudolph?" Neville asked.

"The Sorting Hat's name is Rudolph. He was supposed to sort students by their own traits- not by family beliefs. He has allowed my ancestor's name to be sullied." He glanced at the watch and sighed. "As interesting as this conversation has been, I believe we should adjourn it until a later time. I apologise once again unreservedly for insulting you, Ms. Bones. However, I must say this in my defence. A year of being derided for being a Parselmouth, of being vilified and shunned by almost the entire school with no action taken against this passive aggressive and often outright aggressive behaviour has made me very uncharitable and rather unforgiving towards those I do not know too well. It is not an excuse for such behaviour, but..." he let it hang in the air and bowed deeply to her.

Susan got the message and flushed. She evidently got the message- nobody was going to be forgiven. Coupled with what little Neville had obscurely and inadvertently hinted to her about Harry's life before Hogwarts, she could understand why he was standoffish. It was hurt, years of hurt that spoke. "Perhaps you should clarify Slytherin's position to the whole school," she suggested.

"The suggestion certainly has merit, Ms. Bones." Susan wore a pleased smile. Harry turned to Amelia and asked, "Chief Bones, do you have anything else to ask me?"

"No," she replied, wondering whether this was an indirect request to leave.

"But I do have something to tell you, though I would prefer that you would come to Gringotts for that. I have leave to divulge this information to you, but only in the presence of His Majesty, the Lord Director. It is about some **_bits and pieces._** " Amelia's eyes widened and she gave a slight nod. "I took the liberty of informing the Lord Director that I would be hosting you today, and he has ordered me to accompany you into his midst. If you are ready," he motioned to the portkey he held.

"Susie, I am going to return here, so you may wait, if Lord Potter allows." She looked over at Harry, who nodded.

Harry thanked Ted and Marius, apologised for wasting their time and saw them off through the Floo (Ted had simply said that he would be billed) before he and Amelia left for Gringotts.

* * *

The meeting at Gringotts itself was short. The crux of the matter was telling the Lord Director and Chief Bones about the two Horcruxes and Harry's theory that Riddle had made more than seven. It appalled the two and also made them feel visible relief to know that two were in hand. Amelia decided to close the Museum for a few days and check for any sort of monitoring charm, but conceded that it was strategically well placed to draw out the Death Nibbler who might have placed it.

"Griffinheart, there is one matter that we have not discussed. It is regarding your reward for your suggestion yesterday. Is there anything you would consider for that?"

"I thank you my lord for your kindness. My request is not material. I know for a fact that a vile sexual assault on and murder of a virgin girl or woman, presumably non-magical or a newblood given the beliefs of the perpetrators, with torture for good measure, is necessary to earn the Dark Mark. I would humbly request Your Majesty to grant me this one boon- please have some of the best curse-breakers examine the Dark Mark. I have a nagging feeling that it might be another dark object like the soul anchor."

"The Dark Lord has been known to kill his Death Eaters, My Lord," Amelia countered.

"He has a severe disregard for life, Chief Bones. If I can read his intentions correctly, he would do everything to keep himself anchored to the mortal plane. The Dark Mark would help him completely possess any Death Eater of his choice, making him alive again. And for every Death Eater killed, either by him or the enemies, he had recruited three more, so he wouldn't have cared."

Amelia had to concede that.

Ragnok looked at Harry intently for a few moments. "Very good, I shall grant you that boon Griffinheart."

"Thank you my Lord, your grace is boundless."

Ragnok's face softened. "Griffinheart, if I bind your human companion to secrecy, would you consider letting her meet the prisoner?"

"My Lord?" asked Harry as he reared back in shock. Ragnok was requesting him to do something. It was an order disguised as a request, but the tone was there nonetheless. It was then that he realised the flip side of becoming Griffinheart. Ragnok could order him around. This meant that he had to contribute something much greater than money.

"It is my advice that Chief Bones would be a useful ally to have. Not just by her position, but also as she is personally invested in the matter."

"It will be as you say, My Lord."

Ragnok gave orders for the prisoner to be brought to an antechamber. Harry meanwhile explained the situation to Amelia, who listened in rapt and stunned silence. "In the end, I asked Gringotts' leave to use their prison facilities. Pettigrew has been here since before Sirius escaped. We have agreed a fee of twenty-five galleons a day apart from the hundred galleons for help with the arrest." He signalled for Peter to be brought in. Amelia looked at the two with wide eyes.

"Peter," she hissed.

Pettigrew jauntily waved back at her. "Hello there, Amy. Has the old dog taken you yet?"

Harry wanted to punch the git's teeth through his head for several reasons. For one, he was being too cocky. For another he was disrespecting Amelia. And as if that wasn't enough, he was bringing up the scary subject of Sirius' sex life. That was terrible, and Harry wanted to drive out all the terrible images.

"He hasn't yet, Peter," Amelia answered fully tongue in cheek, "but I am sure he will soon. After all, as Harry brought down Lucius and we have tabs on every single Death Eater, I will have far fewer cretins like you to worry about. Did you know that Lucius is singing like a canary?"

Peter blanched at that. "The Dark Lord is not dead! He will come back and avenge us!" he screeched.

"We already know the truth Pete. We already found out how he is still alive, and we are already more than halfway through taking him out once and for all." Peter only imitated a goldfish before he was taken away.

"My Lord, would it be possible to modify his memories, please? It would otherwise put Chief Bones into a precarious position." That was quickly done. "My Lord has been most generous with his boons. May his banner be the herald of rising fortunes and dying enemies!" said Harry as they took his leave.

* * *

Amelia led Harry to a private parlour in the Leaky Cauldron when they were done. "I want your true answers to a few questions, and not as Chief Bones but as Amelia or Aunt Amy as you'd have probably called me."

"Of course, I'd be surprised if you took everything at face value. But before you ask, let me clarify this. I purposely did not answer any question while Granny Min was there. She is family, yes, but it is difficult for her when she has to juxtapose what she knows now to the Albus Dumbledore that she thought she knew. Loyalty cultivated cannot be easily lost. Oh, and I will just call you Lady Bones for now. I don't particularly like Aunts."

"Prudent," Amelia commended while failing to suppress the grimace at the Aunt jibe. He would have a legitimate complaint on that account, she knew. "First of all, tell me this. Where is he?"

Harry grinned and summoned his Patroni, and transformed into Pup. Padfoot immediately sauntered over to Harry and nuzzled his ears.

"Merlin!" exclaimed Amelia. "He was right in front of me all that time!"

"He was. He wanted to give himself away, but it wasn't the right time."

"Damn!" Amelia swore, as she got up and paced across the parlour, kicking out randomly at the things around her. Harry watched her patiently. She silenced the room and went on a long rant about senile old men, betraying friends and mad betrotheds, sprinkling it liberally with obscenities. When she was finally done, she asked Harry, "I take it that you have a plan."

"I do. The first two stages of operation Rule England are up and running successfully. Did Susan tell you about the Life Debt I claimed of the Malfoy spawn?"

"No, she has been rather quiet about things, and I haven't spoken to her much. You," she emphasised, pointing an accusatory finger at him, "have made this one of my busiest summers ever. Between basilisks, acromantula, capturing old death eaters, escaped prisoners, spontaneous animagus transformations in plural and Horcruxes, I have so much to do that I haven't had the time to speak to my niece."

"And you'll love me for that!" Harry replied cheekily.

"If I had any doubt that you have been in the company of that reprobate, Sirius Black, they have been washed off," Amelia retorted dryly. "The Life Debt," she prompted. Harry showed her his memory of the wording and acceptance of the Life Debt.

Amelia was positively gushing by the end of it. "How exactly did you convince Rudolph to **_not_** put you in Slytherin?"

"A true Slytherin is never in Slytherin, Lady Bones." His cheeky retort had them both in splits. "But do you see now? Lucius has had no contact with his son, has he? I suggest that you protect Narcissa, Draco and Lucius separately. You have no doubt heard of the Witness Protection Programmes or the Approver Protection that are used in mundane law enforcement. Use that. Right now, Lucius is the most important person. Have someone from the department of Mysteries do the same thing that I have asked as a boon from Gringotts. If we can have Lucius to state that Voldemort isn't dead and also come clean about the Dark Mark- how it is **_earned_** , whether a person can be marked unwillingly under the Imperius, and so on and so forth- we get ammunition to take out the Death Eater faction politically. Interrogate them, hold trials and for the most gruesome among them, capital punishment will be the way to go. That was phase one."

"And an excellent Phase one it is," Amelia agreed. "What is phase two?"

"Sirius is phase two. I may be alright at reactionary cunning, but I won't be able to sway the Wizengamot. Freeing Sirius, and having him assume the Lordship of the House Black, will mean him taking up his seat on the Wizengamot. It undermines the people currently in power. Sirius is uniquely placed. He has primacy as Lord Black over several Pureblood houses in his alliance. As my godfather- and adoptive father, he will be able to influence the other end of the political spectrum too. I have no intention of getting tied down by that even in the future, but I'll be doing enough to declare myself as a neutral for all four Houses. Phase two had a small addition. Sirius is going about securing a majority stake in the Daily Prophet. I would have asked you for help at that time, but now that you know, I think it will be prudent to be upfront about it. Would you and could you provide me a list of purebloods only killed in the last war on either side?"

"I may have to organise an inter-departmental search, but it is possible in principle."

"Good! So by the time the Death Eaters' trials are in process, we put in an article in the Prophet telling everyone how exactly the pureblood agenda killed off many pureblood families. It will be a nice kick up their arses, and also undermines any support from the next generation if Voldemort returns."

"Sneaky! I like it," Amelia agreed with a Cheshire grin. "I take it you have planned Phase three?"

"Yes. Phase three is operation Clean the Ministry. Sorry, I couldn't come up with another name. I have employed Rita Skeeter as a private investigative journalist. She will dig up the dirt on several political bigwigs. I put her under an Unbreakable Vow to not leak any information of any sort, and used the carrot and stick approach. Sirius Orion Black, Remus John Lupin, Amelia Susan Bones and family, the Auror department- barring for any exceptions that may be notified to you and her at a later date, Hadrian James Potter, Hermione Jean Granger and family, the Weasley family, Minerva Rowena McGonagall, Regulus Arcturus Black, are the people on her list that she can't leak information about. That in part was the reason that I did not come to you first when I remembered Sirius. You know Dolores- she has an unnatural affinity with the Dementors. She could have killed him, if things had started moving legally, especially after I brought down Lucy."

The-woman-who-loved-Sirius shuddered at that. "I take it that I will be a recipient of anything she digs up?"

"Yes. Though there is one thing. Can you make a confidential entry in the animagus registry? Neither of Sirius and Rita is registered. You've seen Padfoot. Rita is a water beetle." That caused the Head of the DMLE to sink her head into her hands and groan.

"More work! You keep on giving me more work! You are cruel!"

"Do you know how you sound remarkably like Filch?"

Amelia swatted Harry on the back of his head and grimaced again when he ducked away out of instinct. "That is Sirius speaking. A man-child if there was ever one," she said in fond reminiscence.

"So I have told you everything that I have done, or anything that is in progress."

"What about the Horcruxes?"

"We have found two, and I have destroyed two more. What we need first is a confirmation about whether he made thirteen or nine parts intentionally. Though, if I am right, he may have intended to use mine or mum's or dad's death to create one, and probably his last. There is an idea for tracing them, if we don't immediately destroy the ones at hand. The idea is subject to how fast Remus Lupin comes around."

"You are thinking about the Marauders' Map aren't you?"

"How would you know?"

"Robert and Edgar," replied she succinctly. "They and Frank knew much about that fearsome foursome."

"May I ask you a question?"

"You just did," replied Amelia with a grin. "But you may ask me more."

"What is your motivation for Sirius?"

The highly affronted woman looked at him frankly. "He is my betrothed."

"So you are the future Lady Black?"

"No. That was supposed to be Marlene. I had set it up for Line continuation after Robert died, and left behind Susan as his only child. I want her to marry for love."

"And you won't do that for yourself?"

"What do you mean?"

"You are contracted to Sirius for Line Continuation. But as just you, did you ever love him?"

"And you ask this with what authority?"

"Look, don't take this the wrong way. I have seen everything bad that Sirius has ever experienced by the same spell with which I showed you my memory of taking down Draco. I have experienced his twelve year stint in Chateau de Azkaban too. So, I speak as his son, godson, and due to- in his words - my apparent maturity (though debatable), his friend and brother also. I want to ensure that you won't hurt him; because above all, he is family for me. I will say this to outright- hurt him, and I will kill you. I don't bloody care what happens to me." He levelled a fierce glare at her, and allowed his power to flare, causing her to flinch.

"You expect me to be afraid of your threat?"

"I don't threaten. I promise."

Amelia sighed. "If it weren't the case as it is now, I wouldn't have deigned to reply, but I will, because I can see that you are trying to be both James and Harry for him, just as he might be trying to be both James and Sirius for you. If you look at it the way it was then, you will understand. I loved Sirius, and he loved me too. But Marlene McKinnon was contracted to him in blood to be Lady Black, because of some obscure debt between the families. When Robert died without a male Heir barely a month after Susan's mother died at childbirth, there was an obvious necessity for me as Lady Regent to step up to the task, since Edgar, his wife and children had already been killed. Line continuation options are usually taken up with the knowledge that the women will be second wives. I still feel guilt at my opportunism, but it got me Sirius. There were several dissenters as the Blacks were a dark family and the Bones' are rooted in the Light. We still wanted to go ahead with it... and then everything happened as it did. Would I have waited for him if I didn't love him?" That was the answer that Harry wanted. Amelia continued. "What was worse was this- people knew that Sirius and I were in love and no stone was left unturned by my predecessors to prevent me from checking up on Sirius' file. I so wanted to give up, but couldn't, and I now have authorisation- I became the DMLE chief just five months ago. And Sirius' escape has provided me the perfect avenue. Does it answer your question?"

"It does. I am sorry, I really am, but Sirius means a lot to me, as he is the one person who I know is actually related to me. Now that we are clear, I will tell you this. Granny is leaving on the 23rd of August. And I'll be gone on the 1st of September. I don't want him alone. Sirius and I will be visiting the Potter properties soon. Give me a convenient time and I will get you there. Just meet him. Keep him sane. He has relapses every now and then. Andromeda is doing her job as a Healer, but it will take quite some time before he will be fit again. Secondly, please don't meddle in the plans now, however rude it may seem."

"I can see why you want me to do that." She ruffled his hair. She was getting them both back. She knew full well how prisoners were treated in Azkaban. she would have to get the two accustomed to positive, loving physical contact, a very small part of her conscious mind recognised. It was funny how she was already thinking along those lines. "You are a good kid, you know? You are a lot different from many kids your age, but that makes you better. Now I have something to ask you. Do you feel angry, now that you know what Sirius means to me, that I never took you in?" It was a question that had been hurting her ever since she had seen what life he had with the Dursleys. He should have been raised as a son to her and Sirius, along with Susan, and any children they might have had.

"I would have been, had it not been for the fact that I look at Sirius and think I still got a better deal. You feel guilty that you abandoned us, but take my advice. Don't. I m not saying that you shouldn't, just that this is not the time for it." He frowned a bit. "That didn't come out right. What I'm trying to say is that whatever guilt and stuff you have needs to be consigned to a box called 'later'. It will inhibit you and us, if you choose to hep us. It is in the past, and there was never as much need to let bygones be bygones than there is now. If at all, help us be the family we could have been. You, Sirius, Susan, me, my godbrother and godsister, Moony- we were all meant to be family, we can still be."

Lady Bones smiled through her tears. Harry had verbalised what she was hoping. It made sense- every one of them could and would be a family, not a band of misfits whose families were torn asunder by circumstances.

"There is still one question that I have to ask you. Are you willing to take revenge, legally?"

"Sorry?"

"Are you willing to take revenge on the man who put Sirius in jail?"

"Crouch?"

"Crouch," answered Harry with a nod.

"What has he done?"

"I read the case, and also something very funny. A driven ambitious Death Eater hater meets his fall when he sentences his own son, a marked Death Eater to prison. A few months later, he takes his very ill wife, who is almost on her deathbed, to visit the son as her last wish. The two meet, and very amusingly, the son dies, almost immediately. The wife dies just a few days later. She is accorded a private burial, with no witnesses. Not very suspicious, is it?"

"It is suspicious," Amelia agreed slowly, still trying to connect the dots. "The wife was on her death bed and the son dies immediately in Azkaban. What you are saying means that..." Her eyes widened comically at that. "You mean that Barty Crouch senior assisted his son out of Azkaban?"

"Wondrous! Right in one!" praised Harry.

"I'll kill him!"

"No. You won't. You will arrest him at the same time as Sirius goes on trial, and that will be a few weeks after Lucius, Cornelius and Dolores. With any luck, I will claim my seats in the Wizengamot on the Equinox. That will flummox everyone, keep them guessing. A sudden change in the Wizengamot and the government will destabilise things, no doubt, but it will play into our hands- your hands and Sirius'. Once the Death Eater, Voldemort and Dumbledore problems are dealt with, I will be off doing what I really want to do in the first place- take the magical world kicking and screaming if need be into the current era."

"Is that why are you doing things that you are doing?" she asked exasperatedly, unable to put her finger on his motivations.

"Yes."

"Any more shenanigans of a violent nature?"

"It's quite simple, really. I want the Death Eaters taken out, yes, and I want Voldemort dead, but I also need Dumbledore out because he will only hamper everything. We are so far behind, that if the non-magical people get wind of us and decide to destroy us, magical Britain won't exist. And frankly, with the way magical Britain has alienated squibs and newbloods, they are more likely to help the non-magicals. My participation in this forced reform and cleanup will have to be limited to terminating Antonin Dolohov, Rudolphus and Rabastan Lestrange, Fenrir Greyback at the hands of Moony, Severus Snape and Peter Pettigrew, apart from Voldemort. I have my personal, er, bones to pick with them. So that's my overall plan. Are you in?"

"I am," Amelia answered immediately. "I think I have lot of work to do. Get Crouch, and convince Fudge to call off the dementors."

"No. Leave those demons. You, incidentally, have an Elder Dragon and Griffin animagus to stave them off. If you want to start somewhere, go after Alexander Yaxley. He is a marked Death Eater."

"WHAT?"

"You didn't know?"

"Of course I didn't! Merlin! That explains how they always knew our methods!"

"Indeed. Now that you have realised the problem, why don't you demand oaths of office from every office bearer in the Ministry? For example: **_I_** (insert name) ** _swear, that I am not a marked Death Eater. I further swear on my life, magic and soul, that if the Dark Lord Voldemort- also known as Tom Marvolo Riddle rises again- I will not enter his service and will strive to fight against his forces by all possible means. I have not hidden and will not hide any- including kith and kin- who have the Mark. I will not pass any intelligence or information of this oath and the subject thereof to anyone. I have not participated and will not participate in any sort of corruption and/or underhanded dealings that by anyway benefit those who have tacitly, implicitly or explicitly supported the Dark Lord. I am not an unmarked Death Eater sympathiser. I do not subscribe to bigotry in any form against mundane, mundane-born, and any magical being or creature. I swear to remain loyal to my job, my country and the safety of its citizens, magical or mundane._** I am sure that you can come up with something better."

"Thanks. Now please don't tell me anything more. We have been here for half an hour already. We should leave," Amelia replied hastily. She smiled at the opportunism though. Sirius had to have prepared the boy for this when they found out that she was coming. Such a wording, in spite of precedence, didn't come up on the spot all the time.

"I piled it on, didn't I?"

"Yes."

"Good! It will keep you busy. But **_Siriusly_** , Amelia," Harry started (the woman in question simply had to roll her eyes at that. That was one thing he never missed those Merlin damned Sirius-serious puns), "we need information control, and we need it now. We need loyal people in office – if not brave. We need them now."

She said nothing, instead opting to place a galleon for the room and side-alonged him to Marauders' Place.

* * *

They arrived at Marauders' Place, with Harry in a much, much better mood than he was before, while Amelia seemed pensive but was smiling all the same. Susan silently asked Harry what the matter was, but he simply shook his head and smiled. Amelia simply went up to Padfoot, patted him and caressed him, before exclaiming loudly, "What a star of a black dog you have!" Padfoot barked at Harry and Amelia, who both nodded.

"So, Susan, I take it that you've had a rather boring day?" Amelia asked her.

"No Auntie! It was fun actually, Neville showed me around, and told me what he and Harry had been doing this summer. It's brilliant how Neville has got to do the whole house's garden and lawn work! He even showed me around all the rooms, and Luna Lovegood, Hermione Granger and Neville all have rooms here," she ended wistfully. Neville cast Harry a sheepish look at that.

"Miss Bones, if I may be so bold, you are welcome here at any time that you wish. This house is for all my friends and family, and I would consider myself very lucky to count myself among your friends. I only hope I can be half as good a friend as Neville here," he said with a bow and a wink at Neville, who glared back.

Amelia asserted, "I don't mind, Susan. Indeed, if things had been different, you two would have grown up as brother and sister. It would be nice for you to build a modicum of a relationship over the summer. The only thing is that you should stay safe, whatever it is that you decide to do," she added sternly.

"THANK YOU AUNTIE!" Susan squealed as she glomped Amelia into a massive hug that made Hermione's hugs appear sedate by comparison. Neville and Harry both had the wind knocked out of them when they were both treated to a similar hug. He checked his ribs on reflex at that. They were intact. The hug compared with one by Molly.

* * *

"You told her! You-", "-told-", "-her!" Sirius shouted jabbing Harry in the chest with each word with an accusing finger.

"I did." Harry's calmness was making Sirius lose his temper. "She accepted our plans without interference, met Pettigrew, all on the orders of the Lord Director. I have set her on the trail of the Crouch father and son."

Sirius calmed down at that. It wasn't exactly sanity to refuse the Lord Director's orders. "But she could have spoken to me!"

"And make it obviously suspicious that a lady guest was taking the dog away somewhere? Honestly, Padfoot, it would seem worse than Aberforth and his goats."

Sirius cringed and winced awkwardly at that. "I hate it when you come up with such gruesome analogies." Harry grinned. "When is she going to meet me?"

"She intends to meet you at a Potter property. We are going to check up on those, and then you are going to disguise yourself and go off to those places. That said however, I want you to base yourself here. I am going to serve old woman Figg an eviction notice. You know how this place actually works with a space expansion charm? Well, with #8, it can be properly spaced. That said though, I do want a few more guest rooms. I am thinking of a line from the triangle's top vertex to the bottom line, through the tower."

"You want the Peverell symbol?"

Harry blinked. "Damn, I never realised that! But it will work."

"I'll do that. You don't know how much fun I'll have, Prongslet."

"I am just hoping that you and Amelia just don't do anything that I wouldn't with Susan to have fun," Harry retorted dryly.

"But can we do something to have fun that you'd like to do with Hermione?" Sirius asked with a leer and waggled his eyebrows.

"Padfoot!"


	27. Chapter 27

**Pieces fall into Place**

The following week saw Harry tying up several loose ends in anticipation of his return to Hogwarts. Sirius as Padfoot, Minerva and he had gone around checking up on the Potter properties.

The Potter Manor itself was a central castle with several buildings added on the adjoining lands over time. Each of the places was homely and elegant, but Harry could see that his ancestors had more often than not eschewed opulence for practicality and war-readiness. Both boy and dog had drooled at the beauties that stood in the garage under a stasis charm that had started to wear off. Harry shooed off Sirius when he started to sniff around the Jeep a tad too long. It also had a private port-dock connected to it and under a conditional Fidelius. It would be useful if he felt like sailing from Whitehaven to Aberdeen. Harry had checked up on the wardstone and the entry control register which only he could access, and immediately struck off Dumbledore and Pettigrew, and Moony. Moony would have to earn his entry again. He added Neville and Augusta, Hermione and her parents, Luna and Xenophilius, and Susan. Amelia, Minerva and Sirius were already on the list. He also went about adding them all on to the approved lists of his other houses.

He also checked up on the Grimoire, only to find that someone had had the bright idea that would later take over the internet. It was a limited version and had directed him to another room if he wanted the full version. He couldn't help but mutter about insane ancestors, while at the same time commending their wisdom, as this limited version only contained widely known spells and stuff. That made for very good security for the main version.

He found out that a room in the Manor acted like a limited version of the Room of Requirements. If enough magic was supplied to it, it could sustain the conjured room virtually indefinitely. This would be an excellent place to hide the Horcruxes, but Harry felt queasy at the prospect of besmirching and befouling the House of his family. It was a necessary evil. They also found a note that Harry pocketed, addressed to Sirius, Remus and Amelia. Harry had tried to open the door to which the note was struck, but had been forcibly repelled. It had been frustrating and intriguing in equal measure, and it wasn't only because of the fact that the room was inaccessible. The letter also contained two lines of a password limerick each for the three, a reference to two more lines which were to be taught to Harry on his fifteenth birthday, and would be then completed by two others with their return. It made Harry shudder as he remembered the descriptions of the Rings from the Trilogy of the Rings. There were no elves around, and that was odd. It was then that Minerva remembered that several Potter Elves were working at Hogwarts. They called the head-elf Beat. He was an old wizened creature.

"Master Harry!" he fairly squealed. "You is back!" The re-acquaintance with the elves took about an hour, and they were all happy. It turned out that the elves had turned up at Hogwarts in 1991. However all House-elves were forbidden from interacting with students except in case of emergencies, and for a very fair reason. Nobody really wanted them treated like the Malfoys treated Dobby. The elves resumed their familial duties. Harry also had to permit a few elves to have babies. This was a very bad tradition, and Hermione's scathing criticism of the house-elf system as slavery rang especially true. But it was apparently the custom. As long as they would all be happy, though, Harry was perfectly content with having them working, which was what the crux of the matter was. _They were happy._ He also asked them to visit the other Potter, Slytherin and Gryffindor properties from time to time and to keep him apprised of any dark magic remnants in those places. It was necessary to keep a lookout for Horcruxes in those places.

The apartment on Gillespie Road was strewn with several posters of yesteryear and also quite a lot of memorabilia. It was as non-magical as they could have possibly made it. It had astounded Harry that he had so much and so many places to live instead of the hell the Dursley home had been. He was sure that even by Albus' real plan to get rid of the Horcrux, he would have been brought up in the Gillespie Road by Sirius and Amelia, and would've had Susan as a friend at least, as well as Neville and maybe many others.

* * *

The Lion's Den, if seen from the outside, would seem to be a parody of the Lonely Mountain, Erebor. Harry idly wondered whether Hermione would see the similarity. To only the family, would the entrance be visible, and it would seem to actually be a cave or den at the foot of the mountain. The vast open space on either side of the structure indicated that no mundane construction had been ever attempted in the vicinity. It was worth investigation whether the grasslands were an imitation of the Savannah. Once one entered the cave, the real structure would become visible. It was a very impressive fortress which if seen from a height, seemed to be a Lion's pugmark.

The building was a uniform two storied structure, done in red stone and the crest, which was armed with magical cannons which shot spelled cannon-balls, was done up in gold. It looked beautiful, majestic and imposing. A stable for Hippogriffs and an old burial area for elves and men alike were set a considerable way off to the west. To the east there was a large pool surrounded by what was unmistakably an ancient- there was no other word for it- gymnasium. What astounded them in terms of magical architecture was the fact that the resemblance to a paw was not a coincidence. Retractable cannons which resembled claws completed the Lion's Paw illusion.

The base of the paw was built around the wardstone, and the same room also housed the Grimoire. Harry needed his ring with a drop of blood to access the Grimoire, just as he needed it at the Potter Manor and the Herpetarium. He surmised that it was a standard protection. This one was not limited, thankfully. The Library also contained magics that would have been classified as Dark by the Ministry. Magic's definitions had sure changed a lot over a thousand years.

* * *

They had eschewed inspecting the Peverell properties after Harry had told Minerva about the Horcrux in the Gaunts' Shack, choosing instead to travel to Whitehaven to check up on the Herpetarium. Harry remembered having read that it was a manor, and while he wouldn't have really minded it being a shack, he was confounded when he stood on the place where it was supposed to have been. All that he could see was an isolated area of the coast cliff. It was in fact so isolated that they were all pretty sure that there were very heavy duty anti-mundane wards. It was only when the ring hissed at him to speak in Parseltongue and ask for entry. Harry sheepishly realised that it was rather straightforward and asked very politely for entry "to the last of the Slytherins."

It was bedlam. Padfoot was unfortunately standing on the very chute that led down into the cliff. He went down with a loud, long howling yelp. Evidently, the Manor, like every other place related to Slytherin, was underground. Harry in panic asked the ring whether there was another basilisk in the Manor, only to be scathingly answered that just because he was foolish enough to not realise that there would be a Parseltongue password did not mean that others were just as foolish- and Salazar was certainly not so foolish as to keep a basilisk where he and any of his descendents would live and entertain non-Parselmouth guests.

Harry, properly chastised, asked for stairs and along with Minerva, climbed down to a depth of about a hundred feet under the cliff. As he reached the bottom, he could see a very simple but elegant three storied house. Apart from the entrance, every other room faced the sea. Very obviously, there were no gardens and plants, but even the barren rock surface was extremely beautiful. When they reached the side opposite the entrance to the inside of the rock face, the ring prompted Harry to hiss out, "sea view". Immediately, almost as if the rock face was nothing more than drapery, it opened out to a view of the sea, the waves lashing against the rock, but not entering through it. It was just too beautiful for words.

"It's beautiful. This is surreal," Granny Min gasped. "I am a fairly old witch and yet, magic still manages to surprise me again and again!" The three sat facing the sea, at the start of a path which meandered down to the shore. They checked inside. The colours were still seemingly fresh and vibrant. The snake theme was a tad bit too overwhelming, but everyone had their own foibles. Then again, miniaturising and collecting ships was one foible too far. The fifteen ships in bottles were really creepy, in a way, yet, amusing. Four were of the old water elemental's own creation. Of the other eleven, seven were pirate ships from around the continent, presumably collected after defeating the captains. The other four consisted of two merchant vessels, a galleon and a submarine. How he had managed to collect those about five hundred years to a thousand years before their creation was something Harry decided not to think about. Slytherin was, without a doubt, one scary old wizard, whatever the ring said.

* * *

Amelia was eagerly awaiting her visitor. Ever since Harry had told her that he had gotten the most irritating, vitriolic, unforgiving, hateful... (She ran out of adjectives there) woman who spewed half-truths and glorified worthlessness bound together to form news, to do the dirty work for her, she had been anticipating the first dossier that would signal the fall of a Ministry bigwig. Technically, it was a crime, whatever they were doing. It was, for all intents and purposes, espionage and passive entrapment. However, Harry's position allowed him to be a confidential source.

Rita came in with a very suspicious glance around her, polyjuiced to impersonate a mundane woman. Once she had heard the Vows Harry had claimed from Skeeter, she realised that even though they seemed complete, they weren't. They had given her plausible deniability, but none for Amelia, Harry and Gringotts. Amelia surmised that it was possibly because Harry had added the memory erasure Vow, and believed that it would not implicate them. She could hardly expect a thirteen year-old to take care of every eventuality, no matter how hard he tried. She made Rita take an Oath to prove that she was herself, and then went over the details of how she had gathered the information regarding Umbridge. Once she was satisfied, she took another oath from the sting-investigator that she would go straight to Gringotts and get herself obliviated. As a show of goodwill, she gave her a letter allowing her animagus form's registration without punishment and also stating that it would be a DMLE authorised secret. It was then that she took the final step.

She demanded an Unbreakable Vow from Rita that she would not **_collect_** information regarding those she had sworn not to **_report_** about and not to pass it on to anyone else for printing to be given to Harry and that she would act as the bonder. That brought the woman up short. She was ready to argue about that point, but Amelia simply asked her to read her letter again. Amelia too, had been trained by Mad-Eye Moody, after all. All the easing of legal pressure regarding her status as an animagus was subject to her accepting the condition of the last Vow. Otherwise, she would have to pay the fine- herself. Rita was cornered and had to accept. Amelia wasted no time. She floo-called Harry and immediately borrowed him from Andromeda for a few minutes, bonded the Vow, and sent him on his way again. It was only after this that she allowed Rita to leave.

The dossier was really a work of investigative art. Dolores Umbridge had literally too many charges against her. To start with, she was one of the unmarked Death Eaters that Harry had warned her about. She routinely blackmailed newbloods (she had ditched the word muggle after Harry explained its origin) into performing a lot of her dirty jobs. That was one charge: had noted the methods Dolores used to bind the victims to her will. Amelia would need to interrogate the poor people without causing their Deaths. The next charge was dirty and vile. Umbridge was unmarried, but she went around using fairly younger boys as... pleasure toys and would then obliviate them without their permission. Rape and Mind Attacks- two more charges.

The next was arguably the most difficult charge Rita had against Dolores. Just after the war ended, several Aurors had died very suspiciously when they tried to investigate very rich Death Eaters, and even the poorer ones like Selwyn. A few of them had been found soulless. Here was hard proof that traced her guilt right up to each of the attacks, including those that had helped her willingly.

The DMLE could have sung in glee. She could charge these idiots with murder! It was a pity that Sirius would object to it- she would have kissed Harry for coming up with that brilliant idea, even at the cost of being put into the same bracket as Dolores. Keeping Cornelius busy with Sirius and Umbridge would mean he would not be able to devote time to Lucius. She wished and daydreamed that she could have met the Malfoy father and son pair.

It would have been a most amusing experience to watch Lucius spend hours trying to find a way around the claim and fail miserably at it, before the man called up his lawyer, Farrell Gibson for help. The lawyer would have studied the wording intently before giving Lucius the choice of saving himself or his son and the family line. Lucius would have to, almost immediately, accept the guilty plea. His former associates would not shirk from eliminating the Malfoy family totally, Lord, Lady and Heir, to prevent their dirty secrets from coming out in the open. It was so nice to have one over Farrell Gibson. The git of a man had been helping his client manipulate Cornelius into all sort of corrupt practices. Farrell never bothered to think about the consequences, so long as he won. He more often than not indulged in character assassination of any who stood against Lucius; having a legend as large as Harry Potter to destroy would make him feel all tingly at the prospect. The only problem was that, even without any legal training, Harry had too easily taken out Lucius, completely. No, she would not mention the debt till Malfoy's evil spawn mentioned it to his father. And given Harry's and Susan's description of the boy, he most likely wouldn't. Farrell had, for some reason, managed to get the trial pushed to the day of the autumnal equinox. It all came down to control, and Amelia was sure that her boy had it.

* * *

Harry, Andromeda, Hermione, and her parents also had an appointment with St. Mungo's that week. It was time for the comprehensive flushing potions and preventive inoculation. Harry had to be first checked by the Necromancy and possession Healer. Alexis Scott was a woman of nearly Granny Min's age and she was surprisingly gentle. She was told everything about the dreams and Riddle, and about the scar and what he had done to it. She had checked it and found out that there was still a bit left, which had anchored itself to Harry and it was now invading deeper to keep itself alive. Dumbledore's assumption that it was a Horcrux was false- it was a passive possession.

Horcruxes couldn't be created with live creatures as more than one soul couldn't inhabit a single body. Evidently, Harry later mused, Nagini had something inside of her that was the Horcrux. That meant something else that needed to be found. She drew several runes around the scar with a mixture of freely given unicorn blood and phoenix tears snow, a few on his chest and on his palms and feet. She then invited every person who loved Harry to activate the Runes. Andromeda immediately called Minerva and Sirius (in his dog form- he had to do it privately, though Alexis Scott had been intimated), who themselves called Augusta and Amelia respectively. Similarly, Hermione too was sent for. Each of them was supposed to activate the Runes by pricking Harry at each Rune's base and simultaneously concentrating on some positive or loving emotion about him. Once they were done, Alexis went on a long chant that drew the anchoring bit out rather painfully but completely. Harry had to be bedridden for two days. He had then been visited by Neville and Luna (both of whom had agreed to undergo the inoculation), and again by Amelia when she came along with Susan to see him, and also to tell him that an insect had stung a pink toad. Susan could only stare in puzzlement as her Aunt and Potter shared unbridled glee.

He was also diagnosed with mild loyalty potions, though it was not obvious as they had worn off due to the mixing of Basilisk venom in his bloodstream. Amusingly, the traces showed that the potion was keyed to nobody. Somebody was being sloppy. Hermione was clean. The other potions for both were nutrient potions which Hogwarts' food was laced with. It did not need to be flushed of course. Harry had to stay for a combined three days at St. Mungo's as opposed to Hermione's one.

* * *

That hadn't been the last of the surprises, however. According to the plan, Harry, Neville and Hermione had all decided to take the inheritance tests. Neville's great-grandmother on his mother's side had been a newblood. Harry too, was interested in knowing about his mother's family. Hermione remained a complete unknown.

Rubyclaw had catered to them. It was very unusual for Senior Account Managers to do the work, but lately, such rules had become quite lax when it came to Griffinheart. This time around, Harry had brought around the contact information of a very intricate human non-magical goldsmith. He had taken Goldhaul to the goldsmith disguised as Matthew Evans, and to say that the elderly goblin had been enthralled and enchanted was an understatement. Rubyclaw had practically demanded introduction.

Harry knew already that on his father's side he had inherited the Gryffindor, Black, Potter and Peverell lineages. It was on his mother's side that there were real shockers. His mother was descended from a pair of married squibs from the Dumbledore and Friedmann (a German pureblood family) families and also from the Marchbanks family. For quite some time, he stared at the piece of parchment as if it would change if he stared enough. He was torn between wanting to understand the side of his mother and wanting to drop the parchment like a hot potato. How exactly was he related to the family, whose head had destroyed his life in one way or the other? It was only when Minerva remarked that it was amusing how in spite of such strong magical antecedents, Petunia had none of the magical power, but only hatefulness that Harry relaxed. Petunia had inherited the bad aspects of those three families. His mum on the other hand, had inherited magic.

Neville's newblood great-grandmother was the daughter of a proper non-magical and a squib daughter of the Potter family. That made Neville a cousin all over again, as he was also a cousin through the Blacks. That was only encouraging to their rising bonhomie. Rubyclaw also advised Harry to declare Neville a son of the House of Potter, making him second in Line after Harry to inherit the House. Neville took the honour, but refused the Heirs' Ring. He had however accepted the Dearborn Ring for the Heirs. He would succeed his grandfather.

Hermione was the one with the most trepidation, but also, due to Harry's pep talk (though why she needed it was anyone's guess), with the most excitement. If she was related to any of their classmates (except Malfoy- that would be beyond insulting) it would be a wonderful chance to make new friends. If she was the first witch of her family ever, it would be a unique honour- she would start her own magical house. While Malfoy was a probability which she wished was not, she absolutely didn't want to be related to Gryffindor, Slytherin, Black, Potter, Peverell, or Dumbledore. She simply didn't want to be related to Harry in any manner. But it was not going to be possible, for every pureblood family had married into another at some point of time. It finally took Neville assuring her that she would be their friend Hermione for them even if she were related to Voldemort to convince her to take the test.

Harry was sure about her lineage on her father's side. He was a Black. There was no doubt about it. It came through the test too. His mother was a Black, descended from Apollo Black who had been the antecedent to Sirius' rebelliousness. When he campaigned against the terrorist-supremacist dogma in the early 1700's, he had been thrown out. As it turned out, he kept the family name and mixed with the mundane. Eventually when the English settlers started moving to Australia, his heir moved as well. An offshoot of that line returned to England after the WWII, and Ursula Black was a squib born to a squib born in that line. At the time, the offshoot line hadn't rejected them, but the two Dark Lords that came up in quick succession meant that the non-magicals had to be hidden. It was fortunate, for the main line took great pleasure in eliminating the blood-traitors. As a Dearborn blood descendent, she was Neville's cousin to some degree, but she was also related to the Greengrasses. A dark, neutral and light family mix and it was a perfect description of what Harry remembered of Hermione in the O.T., particularly the last year. Augusta had quickly brought about contact between Caradoc's widow, Arianna, his father Lord Reginald Dearborn, and the Grangers.

But the real point of interest was that Hermione **_was_** the last of the Dagworth-Grangers. She could have easily taken up the mantle of the head if endorsed by five noble families or above. Harry alone provided four. But Neville, Augusta, Amelia and Susan were all ineligible as none of them were heads of their respective families. This gave Hermione something more to look forward to. It was an Ancient House. So there would not be a seat on the Wizengamot. But there would be much respect for her.

* * *

Dolores' initial trial (to prove her guilt as a member of the Ministry and to approve her removal) took place almost immediately. Amelia had tipped off several of the probable allies in the Wizengamot and had procured a full court hearing. She had also pressurised Cornelius, who had promptly washed his hands off his Undersecretary and the three minions who had once supported him. It was simply necessary for his political survival. It was not by any means a victory. It was, if at all, the pruning of one of the most dangerous branches of a rotting tree.

* * *

It was not merely the power play that was going well with the plan. Sirius and Minerva had stepped on the pedal to further the two academically also. Minerva had, with Harry's permission, brought along Filius, and the two had tested both boys on all charms of the previous years. While they were fairly matched in power, Neville had a tendency to overpower his spells every once in a while. It almost had a concussive effect, and it had to be drilled into him that he was eschewing accuracy for power. Harry had a complementary problem. He was able to fire off spells very fast, so he tended to underutilise his power, relying instead on barraging with spells. He always did that with Sirius, who, as a part of his lessons in pranking, also had small battles with his son. Both habits led to a fast tiring of the caster, and needed to be done away with.

Neville on his part had nailed down the bear transformation completely. It turned out that Neville had a natural affinity to the mind arts and was able to visualise and focus very well. Harry had suggested that they capture photographs of Neville's Patronus- and it was the most foolish idea possible, for the Patronus was a manifestation of energy. In the end, Neville had taken to casting the Patronus while disillusioned and then observing himself do that by going back in time. There were a few instances when he had ended up with body parts of the bear interspersed with his own, but had finally managed it. That had been a relief to both Sirius and Harry. They may have been on the outs with Moony, but they were still his pack- and a pack never abandons the wolf. Speaking of wolves, Neville had spent an entire day as a wolf-pawed human after he had tried that transformation too. It was particularly difficult for him, because he did not have as much of the wolfish nature in him. The animagus transformation was not just physical, it was psychological too for the wntire time that the person was the animal. It had taken them nearly three hours to undo the transformations. At another point he had managed more, but he wouldn't complete the transformation till the week after they reached Hogwarts. It was a similar story with Harry's lion. He had been stuck with a jet black mane when he had tried it.

Sirius had also gotten Harry to check every item he owned for any sort of monitoring charm or the like, and both had been angered to find several on the trunk, the holly wand, Harry's shoes and all sets of uniform clothes. But the real shocker was the invisibility cloak. It had twelve tracking and monitoring charms. They removed them all. But invisibility alone was not the solution to safety from Filch and his cat. There were the silencing and deodorising charms that were silently done, but with a clear intention. Sirius had reinitiated Harry into silent casting. He drilled him till Harry simply forgot to incant loudly. That was when Sirius challenged him for two weeks to cast the Patronus Charm silently. Sirius had actually thought he was frustrating his son with the prank, till Harry actually managed it. He had become a green grim for the next week. But if that wasn't all, they had experimented with using beast speech while casting spells. It was disconcerting and useful.

* * *

Neville's and Harry's birthdays were celebrated with a trip to Alton Towers, much to Hermione's irritation. Both boys had proven themselves to be speedy broom-racing junkies, and given Harry's love for the Knight Bus and the Gringotts carts, Hermione was very sure that he was going to act like a five year old on a saccharine overdose, which was exactly what he had done. The roller coaster rides had him whooping with joy as had even the kiddie rides. As much as she wanted to admonish him for behaving childishly, she couldn't do it. Part of the reason was David's behaviour. He was sometimes just as much a child and repeated some of the scarier rides at least once, with both boys willingly falling in step. Luna had been scared of the roller coaster rides, so she had instead taken the spectator's position, even after everyone had tried to coax her.

The gifts though were special. Harry had given Neville an oriental Lotus plant, several medicinal plants and a book on non-magical medicinal plants, their care and use. Hermione and Luna had pooled to give him a complete gardener's kit. Minerva had given them a photo album that they would share. Each photograph told a story about the two couples' time at Hogwarts and in the Order. Amelia had sent them a greeting each from Susan, and a dog leash for Harry, proving that she was a good match for the old dog by that alone, if nothing else. Hermione had given him the broomstick servicing kit again, but had also added a full set of the GCSE books too. Harry grinned widely, hugged her and kissed her cheek, causing her to erupt in yet another blush. Luna gave him a Wrackspurt's funnel and a butterbeer cork necklace. Harry promptly made her cast a spell on the necklace and touched the Marauders' Map with it, intoning "Locate Luna Lovegood!" It now became a way to always trace Luna, whether or not they were searching for her. Ron had sent him a sneakoscope all over again. His letter this time told in great detail about their travels through Egypt, and contained thanks from all his brothers who had taken care to add in a line each themselves. Ted Tonks had sent in the notification of the exoneration of the half-giant and Hagrid himself had sent in his OWL, NEWT and Mastery examination in CoMC results, along with the same biting book, which Harry made a point to open right in front of the others, hoping they'd take the hint. Harry had to hand it to the large child in a giant's body. The more the things changed the more they remained the same.

It was without a doubt a better thirteenth birthday than the last, when he had had to play waiter to Marge Dursley. Plus, he now had all most of the people he cared for safe for now at least.

Andromeda had declared the two proficient in Potions for the first two years. Armed as they were with the restraining order against Snape, they were actually looking forward to the Potions lessons through the next year. Sirius too had given his blessings for Harry to apply for his HoM OWL. That essentially meant that Harry would expect at least an A, if not an EE in it. That was enough for him.

On the health front, Sirius had been declared- physically- passably fit by Andromeda. He was ready to be presented in court. Harry on the other hand had grown to 5'8", taller than he had grown to at the end of the O.T. With Sirius' tutoring, he had also developed the Marauder instincts as also had started employing the fabled Potter Charm, tempered by politeness that his father had lacked at a similar age. Hogwarts was going to meet a completely new animal.

* * *

Albus had searched high and low for the boy. In another time, he would have succeeded, what with the plethora of instruments monitoring Harry at his disposal. Now though, he had lost the instruments and also the tracking charms. Amelia had pulled up Alastor and Kingsley, his go-to men for Auror work related jobs, for some assignment. He had tried contacting the Dursleys, but had come up a failure as he had been told that the Surrey branch of Grunnings no longer had an employee by the name Vernon Dursley. His first instinct was they had all gone for a holiday, and knowing the fact that for the Potter boy, it was never going to be a holiday, he was worried that their treatment of him would become common knowledge. They were needed to keep him safe... he was cut off from those thoughts by a sharp shoot of pain. Fawkes crooned and trilled as the 'other' Albus came perilously close to gaining dominance.

The real Albus woke again. Harry was surely safe from Sirius Black - the godfather, but vigilance was required if Sirius' brains had been addled by Azkaban. "So many mistakes!" he rued as he popped a lemon drop. The he grimaced immediately. "Bloody hell! I've got to cut down on these. I'll end up with diabetes!"

He was however worried, that Harry was a case too far gone for him to influence. There were several things that the boy had done and probably several more that he had hidden that made Dumbledore wary of him. When Minerva had reported that he was living under a Fidelius, he had not even registered the words as he had been fighting the other Albus. With two Horcruxes out of the way, and Harry still alive, he was sure that he could make some real headway in the fight against Voldemort. He had not purposely kept Harry from his heritage- the other Albus had. He had been using this excuse to himself increasingly. All the same, it was necessary to groom Harry as a political power now. It would not do for such wonderful control as the Potters could have over the seats to be lost.

He was not worried about Lucius' trial, even though the other Albus found it damaging. It was a perfectly legitimate way to destroy an enemy, and now that _he_ could consider the fact, he had to agree that Harry let Lucius off lightly with just the loss of his wand arm. It was something that he himself should have done years ago. What was Lucius thinking, firing killing curses? He sincerely hoped that he would be the one at the trial, and not the other Albus. He could use the opportunity to showcase to Harry that he was firmly on the boy's side. Lucius Malfoy was really not a big loss.

He was worried about Severus, however. He was Albus' spy, and frankly as a war-time leader, he knew that protecting a spy during peace time was just as important. He had become like that, a rather mechanical person ever since Grindelwald had personally killed Percival and Persephone, his twin children and Marianne his wife. Yes, Grindelwald had been his friend, and yes, he was a misguided fool in his youth. But things had changed and he had fought Grindelwald. He wasn't able to kill Gellert, who had once been his friend, but that didn't mean that he couldn't defeat him- he had done exactly that. The war had first made a man out of the impressionable young boy he once was. Arianna's death had been the turning point.

For years he had stewed alone in regret and self-loathing before Abe and Marianne had resurrected his flagging spirit and put him on the path of righteous revenge. But the death of his family had made him unfeeling, a person who had lost faith in the notion of light, dark and grey and he had taken to manipulation to win and bring things around to his side. That was until the day he had been cursed. He had let things overwhelm him. He had let a boy stray from his path of righteous justice. Fawkes had told him that Harry didn't trust him. It was not less than he expected. It would be necessary to come clean to Harry, at least to some degree.

His head drooped. He had to get Potter away from Black. The influence of that man on his pa- he winced hard. "Thank you Fawkes."


	28. Chapter 28

**The Train**

* * *

Granny Min had left for Hogwarts on the 23rd of August to get ready for the new school year. Throughout the summer months, right up to Harry's birthday, she had been going to meet families of newbloods. Harry, for the first time, was exposed to the whole process. He had asked her how she went about it. The answer he got was hardly satisfactory. The newbloods were always delivered a letter asking for an appointment. It was during that time that she, Flitwick or Sprout would go and visit the families. They would be explained about magic, and shown a little demonstration, and that was it. There was no information about the prospects of the children in the magical world, especially after the end of their Hogwarts education. It was a shame. If the dementors did attack again on the train, there would be need for calming all the first years- the newbloods more so.

They all met at the train station having not met at the Leaky Cauldron- it was the time when Mrs. Weasley had romanticised the use of love potions. Amusingly, the Weasleys were **_early_** by an hour. That was new. And so were their robes, Ron's wand, all their pets, their trunks and just about everything else that money could buy. Evidently, they had made good use of the Basilisk money. But that wasn't all. As soon as Harry and Neville arrived from Longbottom Manor (Harry had been over at Neville's the previous night, thankful that he did not need to know what the old dog was getting up to with Amelia at Marauders' Place), Mr. Weasley had shepherded all the boys and Ginny together. Evidently, he hadn't made a promise to old Fudge this time around. While Mr. Weasley was having a last minute talk with Ginny and Percival, the twins cornered him.

"Harrykins!" exclaimed Fred.

"Our ickle Mal-au-the has all glow-n up Fled!" George said, wiping a stray mock tear.

"Look-y how tall he has become, tall-al than ickle Lawn-y!" Fred added, copying Sirius' action of grab-in-headlock-and-grind-knuckles-in-head.

"Geroffme!" grumbled Harry, trying to prise the offending twin off him.

"Look at that Fled! Aw-l weetle Harry doesn't like us any mole!"

"Gentlemen!" barked Harry authoritatively. "You are missing a very important proposition with your baby talk! I invoke the spirit of the Marauders!"

The change that this wrought was astounding and astonishing. They immediately went into conspiracy-and-field-master mode, grabbing Harry unceremoniously in a huddle. "Speak up Harrykins! We are all ears- well at least some parts of us are..." Harry had heard better ear related humour from George when he had had one lopped off.

"Gentlemen, I have been studying the Marauders' Map this summer, with my godbrother, and a devious budding pranking genius, Neville Longbottom."

"Seriously, you expect us to believe that?"

"Harry, at least lie believably!"

"I can testify to that, mates," the younger boy protested. "I have been over to his place liberally, over the summer. Well, let us just say, that between us, we can prank Snape out of his wits to prove our worth, if you like..." Harry offered.

"That is a deal."

"Well the more interesting part was this. Now that we know where the chamber of secrets is- and I know that you may think this is in bad taste- I think it can be an excellent base of operations for the new Marauders. It isn't on the map either, and I have a way in which you will be able to open the chamber."

"That is about the most splendid thing I have ever heard!" claimed George.

"It gets me," continued Fred, pointing at his heart, "right here!"

They would have continued their conversation without getting anywhere at all, if Mrs. Weasley called them all up with a call of "BOYS!" Harry caught up with Percy and congratulated him on becoming Headboy as they congregated towards the Weasley parents.

"Now, listen here you lot, and also tell what I am saying to Hermione. Sirius Black is a very dangerous criminal and he has been the right hand man of You-Know-Who. They think that he is out to get Harry for revenge." Harry snorted at that but hastily turned it into a cough. If Sirius was out to get him, it meant he would be looking to see if his hair was green or he had flippers instead of feet. "The thing is this. You have been in lots of _misadventures_ over the past two years. You are not under any circumstances, to go after Sirius Black. Do you get me?" Mrs. Weasley asked with not a little stab at disciplining Harry.

"Mrs. Weasley, why would I go after Black if he is out to get me?" Harry asked, mentally adding, _"Without a couple of dungbombs and Filibuster's Wet Start Fireworks? Or without possibly more incriminating Zonko's products?"_

"Promise me, Harry," Mr. Weasley interjected. "Logic be damned, I don't want you going after Black!"

"Mr. Weasley, I-"

Thankfully Luna chose the moment to bounce onto the platform. "Are you all playing a huddle? May I join in?"

That highly disconcerted the Eldest Weasleys. "Not a huddle," replied Molly distractedly.

"Oh," said Luna with a mien of disappointment. "I thought it was like a team game. Harry, I'll go ahead and find some space for us, shall I?"

"Of course, Mooney, you do that. I think we might have quite a few people joining us. Of the back of my mind, I can count several, including Ronniekins, Gin-Gin, Hermione, Susan, Percy, Fred and George, and Neville- and of course us." Harry sincerely hoped that she wouldn't find the compartment where Moony presumably had already taken his seat, and it would be possible unlike last time, when they had been disastrously late. Any further discussion regarding Sirius Black was relegated to non-existence however, as the hordes of students and parents made a beeline for the train. With a quick bidding of goodbyes, all the Weasleys and Harry were ushered along to clamber onto the train, with fifteen minutes still left- a record for anyone ever bearing the Weasley name.

That was when Harry spied Amelia and Susan coming through the barrier. Neville had told him that Susan always stayed over at Hannah's the day before the train left after any long holiday. Amelia saw him and smiled smugly, filling Harry with foreboding. Taking his leave of the Weasleys for a moment as Amelia said her goodbyes to Susan, he approached her. As Susan left to sit with Hannah and her Hufflepuff friends with a cheerful wave at Harry and a last hug to Amelia, the older woman smiled even widely. "Mr. Potter, I sincerely hope that the situation with Sirius Black will be resolved soon. It is a pity that it is so _hard_ on him that he has to hide. By the way, I kept your dog company, yesterday. He is a good doggy. He has a lot of style," she told him totally tongue in cheek.

Harry's eyes bugged out as he heard unwanted details about his godfather and Amelia- in that moment, Sirius was **_not_** his father. "You- you..." he stuttered, unable to articulate any further.

"Go on to the train, Harry," Amelia said, patronisingly. "Sirius told me that you are **_old_** enough."

Harry was torn between wanting to run for the hills- er, train, and wanting to scream in disgust. He managed to combine the two by running away from her with a low strangled scream. It did not permeate Harry's brain that the reference might mean that Sirius had probably told her about the future.

"The boy is clearly scared of me for some reason," Amelia muttered in incomprehension. All she wanted was to tell him that Sirius and she had had a great time talking, coming up to speed with each other and in spite of his hard time at Azkaban, the old dog hadn't lost his style and charisma. Harry never heard it. He was working up his Occlumency to eliminate all bad pictures of the two.

* * *

Harry peeped through the panes on the doors to search for his companions, and froze when he found them. Luna and Neville had found the compartment right where Moony was, sleeping again, slumped into the corner between the seat and the side of the compartment, his head resting in an awkward angle on the window. Now that he knew why Moony was tired, he felt for the man. The 31st of August had been a Full Moon Night, and the month itself must have been terrible as it was a Blue Moon month, causing him to wince. All the same, he was still unsure how to react. He was really worried that he would blurt out something if Moony tried to speak to him. At least, Moony had made good use of the money he had been bequeathed. He was dressed impeccably.

"You could have found an empty compartment, you know," he chastised the two, with a bit of a glower.

"Oi, don't blame me! Moon went ahead and said that it was important that you sit here!"

"Why?" Harry asked Luna.

"It is, just as it is important that you should learn to fly on wings," Luna replied serenely.

Neville and Harry exchanged a glance, shrugged and then Harry settled across Moony, after divesting himself of his trunk.

Hermione joined them not long after, before Ron, Ginny and the twins checked in. Apparently, they had all been given strict instructions to be Harry's guard, much to his (concealed) irritation. They engaged in small talk for a few minutes before the twins left, presumably to corner Lee Jordan.

"Who's that bloke?" Ron asked in an offhand manner.

"Eh? Oh, that's Professor R. J. Lupin. I believe he would be the new DADA teacher," answered Harry, looking resolutely out of the window. "It's funny. I keep thinking I have heard that name before, or that I should know him, but I can't for the life of me place him." Harry swore he saw a faint smile on Moony's face in the reflection on the window pane. So the prat was feigning sleep. He deserved a good prank. Well, there would be a wondrous welcome for Moony.

"How'd you know his name?" Ginny asked with a blushing red face. Harry turned towards Ginny when she asked that and simply pointed towards Moony's trunk, causing her to mouth, "Oh."

It was then that Neville and Hermione asked him what the Weasley huddle was about. Ron answered in his stead. "Well, apparently, You-Know-Who is not enough. Sirius Black is after Harry for revenge." ("He must be- I played the last prank," Harry smirked mentally.) "He was YKW's right hand man and was the Potters' secret-keeper. He betrayed them to YKW. He has broken out to come after Harry," he reported with a nonchalant shrug.

Hermione had her hands over her mouth. She finally lowered them to say, "Sirius Black escaped to come after _you_? Oh, Harry...you'll have to be really, really careful. Don't go looking for trouble, Harry-"

"I don't go looking for trouble," said Harry, nettled. "Trouble usually finds _me._ "

"How thick would Harry have to be, to go looking for a nutter who wants to kill him?" said Ron shakily. Hermione glared at him. "No one knows how he got out of Azkaban," continued Ron uncomfortably. "No one's ever done it before. And he was a top-security prisoner too." (Two out of the three statements was false. Harry knew how Sirius got out, and Barty Crouch Jr. was the first to escape.)

"But they'll catch him, won't they?" said Hermione earnestly. "I mean, they've got all the Muggles looking out for him too..."

"Hermione, this Black guy was YKW's right hand man!" Neville interjected.

"Exactly," agreed Ron. "Dad said that Fudge told him, that Black thinks if Harry snuffs it, YKW will be resurrected or some stuff like that!"

That raised everyone's hackles, including Harry's (for a different reason). "So he isn't content with killing Harry's parents, and so wants to kill Harry too? Oh, if he comes after Harry, I won't need my wand to take care of him," Hermione growled, so much like a lioness. _That_ explained why Mione had changed from an otter to a lioness. It also meant that Harry would have to submit to a week of pranks from Sirius. The old mutt was right about the Patronus after all.

"'Mione, just leave it. Can we talk of something else please? How was Egypt, Ron?" Harry's pleading voice made Hermione back down apologetically.

"It was brilliant!" Ron gushed. "There were these pyramids, and lots of ancient places where we had to pay a fair bit of gold to get in and see. The twins tried shutting Percy into a pyramid, but Mum caught 'em." He shrugged with a morose expression. "Still, it wasn't as bad. Percy no longer has a ten foot pole shoved up his-"

"Language, Ronald!" admonished Hermione. "I hope you were going to stop at 'posterior'!"

"That works too!" he agreed. "Anyway, Bill was happier too. Well it is thanks to you really. Ever since you gave out that compensation thingy, Bill and Charlie haven't had to-" He stopped as Ginny hissed, "Shut up Ron!" and both their ears turned red.

Harry realised exactly what subject had been broached, and also which other had been broached by association. "Never mind, mate. You don't need to thank me. So, did you buy a new wand after that crash and the git?"

"Yes," grinned Ron happily. "Fourteen inches, willow, containing one unicorn tail-hair," he informed them, displaying it. "And what's more, Mum and Dad have even promised us each a pet and a broomstick. We'll get either for Christmas or our birthdays!"

"Fred and George are going to have a pet? Some poor creature is going to have **_them_** foisted upon it?" yelped Harry.

"As odd as it sounds, yes, they'll. But they said they'd share." Harry winced and shuddered in sympathy for whatever the poor pet would be.

"Speaking of pets, I can see that Hermione has a new one," Neville commented.

"Yes," squealed Hermione. "He is Crookshanks. He is a half-kneazle. Harry gave him to me," she told them, as Ginny and Luna cooed over the little monster and cuddled and petted him.

"What for?" asked Ron, a bit abrasively. He then took a good look at Crookshanks, and grimaced. "He looks like a squash-faced little pumpkin. Do me a favour, mate, never give me a pet as a present. You haven't got great taste in that!" Said monster pawed him with a hiss that Harry understood as a declaration of enmity.

"Ron!" cried Hermione. "I love him very much." Then realising that it may be construed another way, she hastily continued, "He is my pet. And he is absolutely cute." Crookshanks bristled at that. He was a **_handsome_** specimen of a feline male. He wouldn't be degraded by being described as cute.

"Call him handsome, Hermione. He didn't like being called cute," Harry advised her.

"How would you know?" Ginny asked in a small voice, still averting Harry's eyes. Merlin, he had to have a talk with this girl.

"I am a beast-speaker," he answered simply. "Snakes are just one of the things I can talk to." Crookshanks yowled at him. "Yes. I am sorry. That is the technical term, Master Crookshanks, but you are right, I shouldn't call you a beast. Do you want repayment through petting?" Harry growled back. Crookshanks eyed him apprehensively, than jumped onto his lap and purred in contentment as Harry scratched the cat's ears and returned to staring out of the window.

Sometime later, Neville broached the subject of Hogsmeade. "I can't wait for the first trip down there! It will be exciting to go there and actually hang about away from home."

"It should be exciting," replied Hermione. "It is the only purely magical settlement in Britain, the site of the 1612 Goblin rebellion-"

"Stop right there! The 1612 rebellion was wrongly reported in human circles. As Griffinheart, I am honour-bound to explain the Nation's stand. The Goblin Nation considers non-repayment of loans as fraud, and that includes any delay in the installments. Human relations with the Nation were at an all-time low. The Wizard in question had made several of his friends who were business owners in Hogsmeade guarantors to his loan. It was only a collection drive. 1612 was a time when female Goblins or Garnarukrana were still in service of the bank as its public face. Several humans severely insulted them, but one was physically violent towards a pregnant Garnarukra and she lost her child. There is no concept of Garnarukrana living through the loss of a child yet to be born- they cannot bear the sorrow as they are very much conscious of everything, even during the birthing process. If the child dies, it is only a rare Garnarukra who doesn't die. Retaliation was necessary and obvious."

This was new history as far as the others were concerned. Binns never taught history from the point of view of those that opposed magical humans. Hermione had a protest to lodge. "Isn't this unnecessarily violent?"

"SILENCE, HUMAN!" roared Harry in anger, making them all jump and jerking Moony out of his feigned sleep. He ploughed on regardless. "FOR A GARNARUKRO, FAMILY IS EVERYTHING. NO REVENGE, NO AMOUNT OF VIOLENCE IS ENOUGH, BAR THE SIGHT OF THE FLOWING BLOOD OF THE VERY LAST ENEMY, TO SATIATE THE HONOUR OF A LIFE AND A CHILD LOST, TO SATIATE THE PAIN BORN OUT OF THE LOSS OF A FAMILY MEMBER! AS A HUMAN TOO, I WOULD DO THE SAME, AND HAPPILY SO, TILL MY THIRST FOR REVENGE IS QUENCHED!" His magic was getting away from him all over again. It pressed them all against the walls of the compartment, and pinned them, a few inches off the ground.

The door flew open to admit Susan, who barked at Harry, having heard his dulcet diatribe from the adjacent compartment, "Stand down Griffinheart! Do not bring shame to the Nation by your actions! The Ministry will consider this a rebellion!"

Harry jerked out of his anger at her words, and rapidly cooled down. He blinked and then looked at them all sheepishly in turn. Approaching Susan, he bowed, and kissed her right knuckle. "Heiress Bones, I thank you for your timely intervention. I apologise unreservedly for any trouble that I may have caused you."

"Lo- Mr. Potter, my Aunt, the Lady Regent Bones had warned me that there could be such repercussions if anyone were to cast any aspersions on the Nation's actions. I am honour bound to follow her instructions." She then left.

Harry turned to Hermione. "Ms. Granger, I apologise for my wanton anger which though not unwarranted was misplaced, as it wasn't anything but curiosity that made you ask that question. As your sworn protector, I have failed my duty. My life is yours to claim." He knelt before her and exposed his neck, per Garnarukro tradition.

Hermione, who was still recovering from her fear at having seen Harry go berserk, was dumbfounded. They all stared at Harry, transfixed and dumbfounded, before Moony spoke up. "Ms. Granger, I believe Mr. Potter requires your response. As he has sworn to be your protector, but nearly went against the oath, you are allowed to pass the judgement of death unto him." Hermione blinked at Moony- Professor Lupin- with an open mouth, before Ginny shook her.

"I can't want to kill you!" she said in a high pitched, panicked voice. "It is okay!"

"Thank you, Ms. Granger. I will strive to be a better protector, if you would still find it in yourself to allow me a chance at making reparations." Hermione could only nod. Harry turned to the others. "Heir Longbottom-Dearborn, Heiress Lovegood, Professor Lupin, Mr. Weasley, Ms. Weasley, I apologise to you all to for any harm that I may have inadvertently caused you. Please name your conditions."

As only Neville truly knew the required protocol to be followed, he answered. "Mr. Potter, I believe I believe that I speak for us all. Your reparations were made when you apologised truly. Please do work to control your anger. That is the only condition that I name." The others added their agreements and acceptances to that.

"Thank you, Heir Longbottom-Dearborn." He turned to Moony, and asked, "Do you intend to name your additional conditions Professor?"

"No. I agree with Heir Longbottom-Dearborn. That is all."

"Thank you," he said, more politely than he had ever spoken to Moony. He then resumed his petting of an extremely angry Crookshanks, who had lost his petting servant rather violently. The eruption of Mt. Harry had scared everyone into silence, and they remained that way for the better part of the next two hours, till lunch time, when the witch with the food cart came by. Everyone bought several items, but Harry loaded himself with anything chocolate. Moony was still feigning sleep. Harry debated with himself whether he should try and entice the prat with chocolate and break his act, when his marauder side gave him a better idea. He was thwarted however, when Hermione approached him again.

"Do you think we should wake him up?" Neville asked awkwardly, nodding toward Professor Lupin. "He looks like he could do with some food."

Hermione approached Professor Lupin cautiously. "Er- Professor?" she said. "Excuse me- Professor?" He didn't move.

"Don't worry, dear," said the witch as she handed Harry a large stack of Cauldron Cakes. "If he's hungry when he wakes, I'll be up front with the driver."

The journey resumed its companionable silence, at least till the annual pilgrimage by the Slytherin contingent. This time, it was Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabini. These were a pair that had earned their place in the House off their own merit. They'd be worthy opponents, or useful allies. Ron was about to make an abrasive comment, when Harry calmed him with an authoritative hand on the shoulder. As Harry now was among the taller people in his year, he easily towered over the two newcomers. However, Sirius had coached him in the use of elegance, and easy grace in the display of power, so he knew that imposing himself on anyone physically was hardly the way to go.

"Well met, Heir Nott, Mr. Zabini. I am Hadrian of the House of Potter. What may I help you with?" He asked with an inexpressive face, looking both boys straight in the eye, after nodding once to each of them.

Nott was clearly taken aback at this. He had obviously been expecting aggression, as a Slytherin. Given that he was the de facto leader among the snakes, now that Draco had been defanged, it made sense to not fight down a person of higher status and more importantly, higher power- even though it had a domino effect on Theodore's own father. Both boys returned the nods. "Well met, Lord Potter?" Harry allowed a barely there smile to grace his face, neither accepting nor denying the address. "I thank you for your help in bringing down the Malfoy scion from his ill-earned position. As a representative of the third year Slytherins, Mr. Zabini and I would like to extend neutrality with Gryffindor, with any reasonable terms that we may mutually agree."

"I must say that this is a very mighty concession on your part, Heir Nott. I believe that a train ride is not exactly an opportune place to discuss these matters. Perhaps we can adjourn our discussion till after dinner tonight? With your permission, I would ask Heir Longbottom to join me."

"Indeed, he would be most welcome. Till then," Theodore said with a bow.

"Till then," Harry replied with a nod. As he sat back down, he realised that the others- barring Moony who was still feigning sleep; and Luna who was really sleeping, snuggled into Hermione's side- were all staring at him.

"What?"

"What the bloody hell was that?" Ron asked incredulously.

"What the bloody hell was what?"

"Don't play dumb Harry," Hermione cut across Ron. "How **_did_** you manage a civil conversation with Slytherins?"

"I believe that I was only being polite, Hermione."

"But- but you sounded like Malfoy!"

Harry took one look at her and then laughed. It was a curious thing – the laughter was bark-like. Remus jerked slightly. Harry laughed like _**the**_ lunatic. "Oh just listen to yourself!" he exclaimed wiping tears of mirth. "Are you saying that **_that_** bigoted blonde ferret spawn of a Death Eater has even a modicum of politeness? Please; I was only behaving as is expected of me in polite society!"

"But... how?"

"Look, my actions at the end of last term were important in bringing Malfoy down. The thing is that Malfoy, if he had been a polite person, and hadn't insulted you lot, would have been acknowledged for what he is- he is my cousin through my grandmother-"

"What?"

"Yes. My Grandmother Dorea Potter nee Black was Sirius Black's great Aunt, and so also of Narcissa Malfoy nee Black."

"You are related to Sirius Black?" asked Ron horrified.

"Yes. So are you. Your grandmother Cedrella was a Black, mate. Hermione had squib ancestors born in the Black line. Neville has Black ancestry too. Every so often there is a family that becomes fairly large. At the point before the last male son was put into Azkaban, there were, I believe, about fifty members. In our generation your family will be replacing the Blacks. Including you nine, and your extended family, you are what? Sixty, seventy people?" Ron attempted to think and then nodded. "So a lot many people will be cousins through the Weasleys, but since you have more male members, your name will carry, unlike the Blacks. So well, anyway, Malfoy- he is a cousin. However, he is a prime example of a waste of human reproduction capabilities." The classical insult, delivered in such sophisticated words, had them all chortling immoderately. "Anyway, he has been a git, and a person who doesn't deserve his place in Slytherin. By ruthlessly, and irrevocably destroying his position, I showed off that I was politically better off than he is. Plus, it didn't hurt that I claimed the Life debt in front of a packed hall, leaving him no chance to weasel out of the shame of owing to me. Then I showed everyone that they owe me. In essence, I showed them that I hold power over them, and then I have held that in abeyance till they do something worth punishment. I have given them cause to fear me- the greatest possible cause. It keeps everyone else safe from them, on my conditions. In effect I created my position of power."

"And this helps you how?"

"Nott's father is a Death Eater. We already have evidence of the fact that Tommy is still- I can't exactly say alive- existent on the mortal plane. When he returns, who do you think he will approach first? The Death Eaters, of course, for being a Death Eater is a lifetime of service or death. By creating a situation where I wield power over them, I can stop the children of Death Eaters from joining, if and when 'Mouldy-shorts' returns, cutting down his power base. I am not stupid; I know that there will be some who will want to join regardless. I will bind them to my will. For others like Nott, who clearly haven't demarcated their position, I can have neutrality in the short term, and possibly business relations if I need them. Why create an enemy, when he could be a powerful ally? Plus, by giving him plausible deniability over the actions of those he can't control, I give him reason to be civil to the rest of us. By establishing myself very high up in the power pecking order at Hogwarts, I bypass the internal political landscape of the Slytherin House, without needing to know its intricacies. One fortuitous incident whereby the whole school owes me a life debt, including an entire batch that has passed out, can be manipulated to whatever level I want. To people who won't, or can't understand this manoeuvring, it is just me taking revenge against a school bully."

They all just kept staring. Finally 'petulant Ron' reared his head. "But why take Neville along? Why not take me?"

Harry shook his head. "Familia Magicus Potter!" he incanted, and a Griffin very much resembling Firewing screeched his presence. "By my family magic, I place a geas on the occupants of this compartment. My previous explanation regarding my actions, and what I will explain now, till I command the geas' effect to end, will not be spoken to any that aren't present here, till I give them my express permission to do otherwise. The secrets of my words shall remain so till I grant leave to reveal them. So I claim it to be!" The Griffin dissipated in a golden mist and entered them all, including him.

"Look Ron, you are both my best friends, but these are Slytherins we are talking about. They respect power, ambition and cunningness. As Lord Potter, Lord Gryffindor, Lord Slytherin and Lord Peverell, I individually am the most powerful person in the school, and possibly, even in the Wizengamot."

"You are Lord Slytherin?" asked Ron horrified.

"I wasn't till I destroyed the scar. By conquest, I am Lord Slytherin now, as I defeated Voldemort thrice- it was my Mum the first time around," he explained patiently.

Ron's eyes glazed over. "That is bloody brilliant! You can lord over those slimy snakes now!"

"And become the Gryffindor Malfoy? No, thank you. I will keep that bit of information under wraps, till I decide to or am forced to reveal it. Why waste such perfectly good political powers over school squabbles? Anyway, Neville is Heir Longbottom-Dearborn. As much as neither of us likes it, the stupidity that is the Magical Society puts you lower on the social scale than either of us. We won't stand for you being insulted by implication. As a Lord, I am higher up than both of them combined, but having Neville along stamps the power equation firmly in our favour, especially if they attempt something foolish. I don't like how it is, but if we want to change the system, we have to work from within it. Turn it on itself and watch the show. You hate it that I have spoken so crudely, if truly, but think, amongst us all, who is the most disadvantaged person?" They all actually thought about it.

"I am," Hermione admitted. "As a mud-"

"Hermione!" chastised Harry.

"Sorry, as a muggle born I have no status at all. Harry is a half-blood but a Lord of four houses. The rest of you are pureblood."

"Exactly," agreed Harry. "And don't use the term muggle-born - use newblood. Now my mum faced the same. People think of them as war heroes and then spit on her memory. I will tear apart the fabric of magical Britain, if that is what is required, to stop the bigotry. My mum could never live it that way; I won't let Hermione suffer the same. If we want to move and keep pace with the rest of the world, we have to drag the society with us. But just tearing the fabric is not enough- it has to be stitched anew. The needle that will do that is in our hands, but we need to be sure that we can salvage all that is good. That is the way of the true Slytherin."

Remus was listening to Harry speak. He had been expecting an adolescent, a teen. The one he found was a Charlus reincarnate. He still remembered that man. He had been a friend, especially after his parents had been killed. His death had been as much a blow as James' and Lily's. Most importantly, this was not the Harry, or Hadrian that Dumbledore had told him about. He was, different.

"How would you know the way of the true Slytherin?"

"I told you, I am not in Slytherin only because of Malfoy. I had no prejudice against them, just as Salazar didn't have any against newbloods, as they were called then. Salazar's wife and mother were both newbloods. We have been told a completely fabricated version of history. Even old Voldemort wasn't the true Heir of Slytherin. Somebody in his Peverell ancestry won the Slytherin house by conquest. Voldemort and I are blood related through the Peverells. They won by conquest and I won by the house carrying over. I have to restart Salazar's real ideals. Did you know that he was essentially the Charles Darwin of the magical world?"

A newly awake Luna asked, "Charles who?"

"Charles Darwin was an anthropologist and naturalist. He was studying how organisms sustained over eons of evolution."

Succinct, thought Hermione. It was extremely attractive to her, the way Harry had changed. While the Harry of before was not exactly cerebrally gifted, she had come to understand that it was because of the scar and the bindings. He was, with his Gryffindor nature, an even better Slytherin. Added to that was the vocabulary, and she realised that she wouldn't have to dumb herself down for him. She, unknown to anyone else, stared at him **_hungrily_** before coming to her senses. She was feeling the stirrings of a teenager. They lapsed into another long silence, before Ron brought up the abandoned subject of Hogsmeade again.

"Where do you want to go in Hogsmeade? I can't wait to get my hands on candy in Honeydukes."

"ZONKO'S!" answered Neville and Harry in unison after casting the "Muffliato" on Moony, Harry sounding like the thirteen year old he was supposed to be.

"Blimey! Fred and George gave the same reaction when I asked them two years ago!"

"Of course it will be! Zonko's-"

"The holiest of shrines for pranksters-"

"Where people like us can worship mischief-"

"The place where we can get the most desirable of prank stuff during Hogwarts-"

"We solemnly swear we are up to no good!"

"Merlin!" cried Hermione. "You turned into the twins!"

"Of course, Scrivenshafts', and Tomes and Scrolls are on the agenda too-" Neville said trying to pacify her.

"But Zonko's and the Shrieking Shack are places we want to go to!" Harry completed.

Ron looked at the two with barely concealed envy.

* * *

As they travelled further and further North, the sky darkened and so did the windows, reducing Harry's view. He had been mostly quiet as usual during the journey, thinking about everything as he admired the view. Mostly, his thoughts were centred on Moony. Now that he was faced with the man again, he couldn't really stay angry with his honorary uncle, his 'Unca Mooey'. He had tried his best to help him when he was there, and the man had the most inner demons to beat. When finally it darkened too much and the lanterns were lit along the train, he turned his attention back to his companions. He was chiefly worried that the Dementor would be back again.

His fears came to life when the train abruptly started slowing down to a stop, chugging like a tired old man, the pistons sighing and the wheels groaning. Before long it lurched to a stop. Then, without warning, all the lamps went out and they were plunged into total darkness. Harry engaged his Occlumency shields at full power, as a squabble broke out in the compartment as one cat and four teens invaded each other's personal spaces.

Harry hastily wiped the window clean of condensation to check out of the window. Sure enough, there were very tall hooded figures coming aboard the train. Almost immediately, everything started feeling cold. He heard Ginny whimper. He retrieved the shrunken bag of chocolate treats from his pocket and handed one out to everyone, and Moony (bloody chocoholic werewolf - he had probably smelt the treats) too took it. Harry meanwhile barked out instructions.

"Listen up you lot! Ron, Hermione, Luna, Ginny, all of you pour all your love and use this incantation- "Solus!" Keep thinking happy thoughts. Ron, you are in charge. Do not let anyone get in or out, except the Professor, Neville and I. There are dementors on the train. Neville and I can perform the Patronus charm." He summoned the Patroni without delay and the ethereal creatures joined them again. All of them gaped at the happy feelings that surrounded them again. Just as they were calming down, Neville's bear joined them.

"Neville are you taking guard?"

"No. I'll go with you."

"Alright; 'Mione –"

"Yes?"

"Not you Hermione, I was talking to the lioness," Harry chuckled. "'Mione, please stay and guard. Padfoot, Prongs, Firewing (Remus' eyes widened comically as he saw the forms) come and help."

"Honeypaws!" ordered Neville. "You will help too!"

"Honeypaws- seriously Nev, you named that big bear, Honeypaws?" Harry ribbed his friend. Neville did not dignify that with a response.

They moved through the train, driving away the dementors from the compartments, handing out chocolates to the severely stricken people. Neville was gleeful when he got to help Susan. It was as they were returning to their compartment, that they heard something odd. A mellifluous voice was calling out to a girl called Astoria, along with another pair of voices, one of which he recognised as Theodore's were also calling to her. The two boys exchanged glances. Moony was up front, talking to the driver. Shrugging, they knocked on the closed door, which was promptly opened by an extremely flustered Theodore.

"Potter!" he said. "Please call the Professor." Harry complied with a Patronus message to Moony, by Firewing.

"Is there any problem Nott? May we come in?" The boy promptly stepped aside to let them in.

"It's Astoria. She collapsed after everything went cold, screaming..."

"Would you mind if I try something? Do not worry, I have shown what I will do to a certified Healer."

"Please," Nott implored.

The girl, a silvery blonde haired little girl with robes bearing no house crest, was lying unconscious on the berth, with her head in the lap of a girl who was presumably her elder sister. This girl was without a doubt beautiful, Harry noted, before chastising himself for thinking about it. Harry immediately pumped the little girl, presumably the one called Astoria with two Happiness Hampers. Slowly, she relaxed, as her eyes fluttered open. Neville meanwhile rolled a piece of parchment into a conical funnel, and asked the sister to open the younger girl's mouth. Casting a quick "Impervius" on the inside of the funnel, he melted some chocolate from Harry to a thick viscous liquid. While Neville was busy, Harry decided to pump the others with a Happiness Hamper each, too. That made them all smile, particularly the girls- the three elder girls smiled with a guilty and flustered expression, as if they were trying to not show the happiness they felt, or rather, as if the happiness was something they felt guilty about.

As the chocolate flowed into Astoria's mouth, she shuddered and gasped, but kept drinking the steady trickle of hot molten chocolate. When it was done, she got up weakly. The elder girl squealed, "Story!" and hugged her. Harry kept checking her, waving a wand around her in odd patterns.

"There's nothing to worry immediately, Nott. She will be well when she is rested. Is she a first year?"

"Yes. She is Daphne's sister."

Harry turned to the girl and smiled at her. "Are you alright now, Miss? I don't believe I have had the honour of your acquaintance."

The little girl blushed. Her elder sister, who Harry had thought to be beautiful, answered in her stead. She was smiling, and twitching almost imperceptibly. "I am Daphne, daughter of the Ancient and Noble House of Greengrass, and this is my younger sister Astoria. This is Blaise Zabini. You know Theodore Nott, this is Tracey Davis, and this is Lyra Moon. I thank you for your help," she ended expressively. Harry nodded to them all in turn and asked after Astoria again.

"Please don't mind our intrusion, if we can be so presumptuous. We only feel that it would be prudent to wait until the Professor joins us," he told them all. He then turned to Daphne. "Please pardon me if I am overstepping my bounds, Ms. Greengrass, but are you a relation of Mr. Marius Greengrass?"

"He is our father," the girl replied. Harry smiled widely at that.

"It is twice the honour to have made your acquaintance, then. I have had the profit of his legal advice quite a lot this past summer." Daphne's smile widened a bit too. Lupin came to the compartment just then. Taking leave of them all, Neville said with a smile to the little girl, "You have our best wishes for the sorting, Ms. Greengrass. Hope you make it to Gryffindor with us."

* * *

Once they returned to their compartment, both pulled on their robes. Conversation resumed almost instantaneously.

"What the hell was the silvery stuff?" Ginny asked, apparently no longer blushing in the face, now that the dementors had been faced.

"That was a Patronus."

"I have heard about those," Hermione said in excitement. "How come you had four? Most people struggle to even have a corporeal form!"

Harry was in a fix here. "Why don't I show you all the charm when we get to the common room? It is not too difficult, really. We could even show it to the younger ones. They might end up being defenceless otherwise," he suggested. The others agreed. "I'll even show you how to cast it."

They reached the Hogsmeade station soon, and Ginny went off to her friends. Moony joined them again. For the first time since the fifth year in the O.T., Harry would get to the opening feast without incident. He saw that Moony was observing intently. Harry held his gaze, as a battle of wills ensued between the two men. One pair of eyes, brown, bordering on amber, gazed into the green, remembering the two friends the man had lost. The green eyes held the gaze accusingly, angry for never being there when needed in the boy's childhood. Moony blinked and looked away. He did not realise the silent glamour that had been cast on him as he was pranked. Harry added Sirius's master touch- the victim never knew he or she was pranked.

Neville got his wish at the sorting as a furiously blushing Astoria joined the Gryffindor table. The feast was unspectacular, with Dumbledore issuing his usual cautions and adding the bit about Dementors. He also introduced Hagrid as the new CoMC teacher. When he turned to introduce Moony however, there were several screams, shrieks and peals of laughter. The professor had come through the antechamber, and was ignorant about the prank played on him by the precocious cub. Remus was sporting a Garnarukro head upon a troll's neck and abdomen. He was a merman waist down. He eyed everyone oddly, assuming wrongly that everyone knew him to be a werewolf.

"Professor Lupin, have you run into some fun-loving people on your way here?" Dumbledore asked through barely contained snickers.

"No, sir," Moony replied genuinely bewildered.

"Then it must have been a very neat charm caster. To create an illusion of a glamour charm... could you please look at your feet and body and tell me if you find anything amiss?"

"No, sir, there is nothing wrong." By now Moony was pretty sure that his past misdeeds were catching up with him, and one of his Professors had probably pranked him.

"Well, you are sporting a goblin head, a troll's body and are a merman waist down. Since you have been like this ever since you came to the castle, I can only assume that some student decided to welcome you thus. Indeed, this student must have some skills to get the drop on our new DADA teacher."

Remus looked at the tables to see anyone behaving oddly amid the muted cheers, and immediately spotted Harry studiously averting the sight of the Head Table. The cub was a Marauder! It was a pity he would have to punish him- he still needed to learn how to behave and be inconspicuous after pulling a prank. "Well, I'll award fifty points to the House of this person for excellent spell casting!" he replied genially. The Gryffindor House was the first to find their points up. Pointing to the change, Moony continued, "I believe we have narrowed the list of suspects?"

"Impaled by your own sword, Professor?" Minerva asked with an uncharacteristic snigger.

"I think I may have seen that particular sword in action before," was all he said in reply, even as Minerva's eyes widened around her smile.

The dinner was a success by all accounts, particularly, as Ron had decided to ditch his atrocious table manners to preserve his clean new robes. It made for a relieved Harry and Hermione who exchanged glances with the twins over this development. Apparently, Ron _could_ eat without appearing to be a downright slob.

* * *

Once the feast was over, they cornered Percy, and explained the matter with the Slytherins to him. He in turn, explained it to Minerva and she assigned Remus as the sole neutral party to officiate matters. The meeting took place in the antechamber.

"Lord Potter, Heir Longbottom," Nott greeted formally with a slight bow to Harry and a nod to Neville.

"Heir Nott, Mr. Zabini," the two returned.

"First of all, Lord Potter, I must pass on thanks from Ms. Greengrass for your timely actions."

"Please do not mention it, Heir Nott. I was around and I was able to help, instead of being a hindrance. That is all there is to it."

The Slytherins nodded at that. "So now, let us get on to business. Your claim of a Life Debt against Malfoy, created a lot of waves in the House of Slytherin."

"It was as I anticipated."

"There are people who will be hurt by association, and may try for retaliation against you, Lord Potter."

"I do expect that, Heir Nott. The fact remains that proud purebloods allowed the son of a near squib and a muggle to mark them as their property. They have hurt themselves."

"I do not get your meaning, Lord Potter."

"Begging your leave here, Lord Potter, Heir Nott, but the prospect of discussing past rivalries and bigotries are not of consequence right now. I believe we must limit ourselves to the statement of terms of the neutrality agreement," Neville interrupted sternly. Hadrian nodded appreciatively.

"Indeed. Well, Lord Potter, our terms are simple, I speak on behalf of anyone in the third year in Slytherin House. We will abstain from open aggression and enmity."

"You say 'open' Heir Nott. As Slytherins, we do not expect any less from you. Open enmity is a moot point. Neutrality implies no enmity active or passive, even if there might not be any friendship. If we are to agree on neutrality, all that we will ask is for you to ignore people from other Houses if you cannot hold a civil exchange with them. I will take care and ensure that the message spreads throughout the school. No sabotaging of potions during lessons, for example; or, none of you should aggravate and irritate people outside of your House. Should it so happen that third years, and third years only, behave in a way that sabotages the neutrality, you will be made aware of that, with proof. Should the offender repeat his behaviour, he/she will be asking for retaliation. You will not be held responsible."

"So basically, you are just asking for a live and let live agreement with the third years on behalf of the whole school?"

"Not the whole school, no- the policy only extends to newbloods from all Houses and Gryffindors for now. If you wish, I can help you with similar agreements with Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, by way of introductions."

"What about attacks on us?"

"The same policy that we ask for- if a Gryffindor or a newblood from other Houses picks trouble with Third Year Slytherin, or any year below you, I will be the first contact, and will help you confront said person, irrespective of year. Thereafter the person is open to retaliation. That said, if the matter is about love or something like that, I will not intervene, unless there is clear proof of force by any side," Harry answered with a moue of distaste.

"You keep on reiterating about the third year. Do you doubt my power within my House?"

"I am giving you plausible deniability. You are responsible only for your year, and have the chance to mould the years below you as you see fit. I can understand that there will be delinquents on both sides. There will be siblings of hardliners or actual Malfoy-like people in the years below you. You can try to influence them, but your success with them is not a condition to the agreement. However, lack of open enmity, as you say, won't prevent you from retaliating through them. That will violate the agreement. That's why we insist complete neutrality. If you do otherwise, I will know, and you will not like that."

"Is that a threat?"

"No, a promise; I never make threats."

"What about those in the years above me?"

"You are not responsible for them. That will be a matter between them and me. That said, however, if anyone from Slytherin House shows why the House has earned the reputation of criminals, that person will be publicly shamed and destroyed physically, mentally, psychologically, financially and politically till the satisfaction of the victim, irrespective of the Victim's house. This will be true irrespective of the perpetrator's house."

The four held an impromptu staring match. Each held firm, till both sides, almost simultaneously raised their hands for a handshake.

"We agree."

"I think we should decide a timeframe for enforcement. One week should be sufficient, in my opinion."

With nods, and a swig of butterbeer each, the deal was agreed and Nott and Zabini left with a seventh year Slytherin prefect.

As Hadrian and Neville with Percy and Moony following them to the Gryffindor tower them, Neville asked Harry something that had been troubling him a lot. "Don't you think it is suspicious that he allowed you to make the demands, and accepted the conditions far too easily?"

"Of course he did. And I am looking forward to him finding ways around that. He doesn't know one key bit of information, does he? He doesn't know that as an Heir of even one of the founders, the wards report to me if there is some sort of wrongdoing going on, including deliberate sabotage of the agreement by planting false evidence, and I have the responsibility to stave that off the best that I can. It is a huge power and responsibility. Not that it will remain secret for long. Right now, I have used it to trap him into thinking that he has trapped me. If he defends anyone who I can prove did something wrong, he annuls our agreement. At the same time, if he can't defend his Housemate, it undermines his power."

"Damn it, mate. The way you speak, I often think that you are the Gryffindor Head of House by conquest and Slytherin by blood!" Harry only smiled. Behind them, Remus, who was listening in, agreed to that. It added more intrigue to the enigma that the cub was proving to be. He had a strong feeling that he had probably bitten off more than he could chew with Prongslet.

As they reached the Tower, Remus bade Harry to stay behind and bade Percy and Neville to go on. Harry instructed the two to inform the entire House the exact outcome of the discussion that had taken place between the third years from Gryffindor and Slytherin. As Percy, the go-to person as Head Boy for inter- and intra-House discipline was the one speaking, (and Harry had told him exactly how this would help his tenure beforehand) the idea would be well-received.

"Mr. Potter," started Moony.

"Professor," Harry answered.

"It was a wonderful bit of spell-casting that you displayed when you pulled a prank on me today."

The widening of Harry's eyes and his stutter as he protested without lying gave him away. "W-With all due respect, do you have pro-proof Professor?"

"Have you ever heard the bit regarding teaching one's grandmother to suck eggs?" Moony asked absolutely tongue in cheek.

"No sir."

"Then I believe I should teach you a thing or two about not being caught. Detention tomorrow at six-thirty in my office," Moony replied with a smirk. "I know that prank well myself, having played it on our defence professor in my fourth year, Mr. Potter. See you tomorrow evening."

As he left, whistling, Harry grumbled under his breath. Moony had had the last laugh.

* * *

As Harry entered the common room, grumbling under his breath, he saw his friends waving out to him. On the way, he exchanged polite nods with people passing by. He made a point to talk to Colin Creevy, and suggested that he take a complete list of the new Gryffindor first years. As the fourth of September was the first Saturday of term, he decided that he would show all of them around the place so as to help them out. He also told Colin to pass a message from him to the first-years, that they would be getting notes regarding the way to various classes, as soon as they would get their timetables, if they would tell him where the classes would be, as that changed from year to year. Colin almost had an aneurysm when he found his hero talking to him. It didn't help his hero worship any, that the compensation from the basilisk slaughter had helped Colin's father establish his own Dairy business.

When he took his place in the corner that they had occupied, he was hit by a barrage of questions. He ended up explaining everything, including his actions and the motivations behind them. While the twins who were listening in, thought that this was an excellent and political prank, and praised him when he told them that he had been given detention for the prank he played on Moony, Percy had been intrigued by the way he wanted to welcome the first years. He was effusive with his approval about it however. Hermione was extremely impressed by it. To her eyes, Harry had made the step up from just Harry to **_Harry_** , with the accents. Harry remained blissfully oblivious to the change, even though it was something he wanted.

Finally, Hermione pestered him about the Patroni. "When did you learn to cast them?"

"Oh, last term, I saw the Charm in one of Oliver's books. I just tried it according to the theory. It worked a little, but I soon found out that the theory is wrong."

"Oh?"

"Yes. The book said that we have to think up happy thoughts when summoning the Patronus. But if the dementors leach off all happy thoughts, how can thinking of them help you? You will only lose your happiness faster. Instead, I concentrated on the description of the Patronus as a projection of all the love and protectiveness ever felt by the caster. Now I can concentrate on that so well, that I don't need to say the spell. I can cast it silently and without wand movements!"

"How did Neville learn it?"

"Well, I saw Harry cast them, and the positivity from them was tremendous. I just felt like casting one myself, and there it was."

"Can you show us?" Hermione pled, her eyes almost shining with anticipation.

The enormous silver bear blossomed out immediately, bright and powerful. Harry sat back, smiling happily towards his friend, while the other Gryffindors still in the common room, sat amazed and shell-shocked before applauding with their encouragement.

Oliver and his year-mates, who were sitting watching the bear, approached them. They had been having problems with casting the charm, and with the Dementors now placed around the school, the problem had just become too personal.

"Blimey! Longbottom, it takes a seriously powerful wizard to cast a corporeal form! How did you manage it at just thirteen?"

"That's a myth!" Neville replied. "Harry told me that it was just concentrating on real love felt for and from someone- say your parents, or siblings, family or even someone you love; it worked that way. It is a force of love and protection!"

"Is it so? Show us yours Potter!" the Gryffindor captain commanded.

The four creatures bounded out and stood in front of them, almost entirely solid. When Prongs rode out, his hooves actually _**clattered**_ on the floor. Hermione instinctively got up and almost in a trance walked up to the Patroni and caressed the Lioness and Griffin almost lovingly, a smile and wonder on her face. The tender moment would have stretched on, with the seventh years forgotten, but Neville started hollering unabashedly with laughter. Hermione blushed and she looked at him questioningly.

"Merlin!" exclaimed Neville, before dissolving into a rib-rattling laugh. He blustered incoherently for another minute before continuing, "Her- Hermione, just tell us why you wanted to touch just those two?"

"I don't know," said Hermione uncertainly. "The Lioness, she seemed almost like an extension of my consciousness. Also, Harry did call her 'Mione, did he not? The Griffin seems quintessentially Harry. The others seemed parental figures." As all the others gaped at her, she asked a bit huffily, "What?"

Ron closed his mouth. Now that he thought of it, the Lioness did seem to give off vibes that reminded him strongly of Hermione. The Griffin reminded him, as Hermione had said, of Harry. It was quintessentially Gryffindor. And it was really _him_. He then frowned. Why did Harry have Hermione as his Patronus? Harry and Neville on the other hand made no move and still stared at her open-mouthed.

"Are you going to tell me or not?" Hermione asked angrily. That instantly broke them all out of their stupor.

Harry let Neville take the reins of the situation here. He was the one who had dug the trench anyway. Neville gulped in fear, shot Harry a scathing look and faced the angry girl. "You see, when we first cast the Patroni in Ollivander's shop, Harry said the same. The stag represents his parents, the dog was their best friend, the griffin is Harry himself, and the Lioness, which was originally a _female_ Otter who gave off the same feeling of being an extension of you, is his conscience. He says that you are his conscience. The Lioness really does represent you."

Hermione looked at Harry in surprise at this explanation and then quickly assumed a neutral expression. He was however avoiding her eyes stoutly. "Harry? Harry look at me please." When Harry sheepishly met her gaze, she continued, "Is that true? Please explain this." She kept a very neutral tone.

Harry tugged at the rug with the toe of his boot, looking like a child explaining to his mother how the cookies had gone missing. "Yes. You see, the Patronus charm only works with pure, unadulterated happiness and love **_felt_** from the perspective of the caster. Prongs and Padfoot were the embodiments of my parents' and their friend's memories. But the Lioness, she is the calming influence in my life. She would most likely be the one I'd listen to, or hear out. I have never had anyone tell me the correct thing to do. You are the one who does that. I trust you unreservedly. If you tell me something, I will always end up doing that because you said so. So yes, Mione the Lioness is my conscience. Most of the time anyway. I can't always agree with you on everything" He turned his eyes to the ground again. His declaration had been in a way, little short of telling her that he loved her. So afraid was he of offending her, that he missed the smile that graced her face.

Hermione Granger was nearly on cloud nine. Harry, her best friend had a Patronus that was a manifestation of her influence on his life. While she didn't know the whole theory behind the working and intent of the charm, she certainly knew that it worked on the basis of love, happiness and positivity. She was honoured, flattered and most of all, felt tremendously loved for the first time by somebody other than her parents and immediate family. She crossed over to Harry and hugged him; what else could she have done?


	29. Chapter 29

**Snap!**

Colin had dutifully collected the names of all Gryffindor first years. There were four newbloods, and seven with magical backgrounds. The four were Stephen Maxwell, Alice Carver, Donald Keown and Martin Seaman. The seven were Astoria Greengrass, Romilda Vane (Harry felt terrified at the mention of this groupie), Patricia Fawley, Robert and Richard Fleming (half-bloods), Camellia Gamp and Francis Cuthbert. The twins had shown the initiative to pester Harry for the directions when they turned up with their timetables. He had taken the timetables, noted the classes and returned with the complete directions on two pieces of parchment within a matter of five minutes, with instructions for one of the six to always be with the newbloods. He also advised them to roam about everywhere in groups of five, at least, till they became accustomed to the castle; he gave them instructions about staying away from Peeves, of making a point to politely speak to all the other ghosts as much as possible, as they were truly knowledgeable about the castle, and to go around prodding each step with a stick till they memorised which steps were trick steps and disappeared.

Percy approved heartily of that, and added that they were **_not_** to go outside the castle without somebody who could cast the Patronus Charm. So very like a politician, he was willing to fall in with whoever helped him garner positive public opinion. For a change he was trying to be one of the politicians who did do a bit of work as well. He gave them a complete explanation about dementors, which scared them a lot, but drove home the point. He also rather benevolently volunteered Harry, Hermione, Neville, Colin, Katie, and a few more fourth and sixth years to help them with their homework, while stating that they would be given pointers, explained concepts, have their essays given a once-over and suggested library books, and nothing beyond that. Harry observed that more than Rules (with the capital R), Percy was much more attuned to the safety of the students and younger housemates. The Original Timeline had seen Percy leave no lasting legacy as Head Boy. This time around he seemed keen to do just that. To say that the first-years were relieved was an understatement. They had been told that they would be given a tour of the castle later, but at least they knew what to expect.

Minerva and Remus had observed these changes born out of the initiative-cum-influence of the third year from the Head Table. It was like watching James from his NEWT year all over again. He had shown his redeeming qualities then in his position as the Head Boy to those (like Lily, in particular) who were unacquainted with James' largely hidden, but very much existent, caring, helpful and protective side. He was, after all, the man who had decided to take up one of the most challenging branches of magic to aid a friend.

Harry's own timetable was rather free. As he had signed out of the Potions and History classes, with Andromeda teaching Neville and him the former on weekends (four hours each day) and him pursuing OWL exams in History with self-study, he had at least eight hours free during the week. He planned to use this time to complete his homework and study for his non-magical examinations. He sincerely wished that Padfoot would be free soon. It would ease off a lot of pressure from Harry. He had made a habit of keeping the cloak and map with him always. It had carried over from the sixth year in the Original Timeline

* * *

He gave the timetable a cursory glance. Thursday was Arithmancy, a combined class with four Gryffindors, six Ravenclaws and three Hufflepuffs and four Slytherins, at nine. That would be followed by Transfiguration, then lunch, followed by... Care of Magical Creatures! "Merlin's Bloody Bollocks! I might need to stop Buckbeak from chewing Malfoy out! He might be smarting due to the enforced quietness and might take it out on Hagrid!"

Arithmancy was a class that Harry sincerely wished he had attended in the Original Timeline. Accompanied by Hermione, Sally-Ann Perks and Neville, the Gryffindors shared the class along with Padma Patil, Anthony Goldstein, Terry Boot, Morag McDougal, Mandy Brocklehurst and Michael Corner from Ravenclaw; Justin Finch-Fletchley, Susan and Ernie McMillan from Hufflepuff, and Daphne Greengrass, Theodore Nott, Lyra Moon and most surprisingly, Gregory Goyle from Slytherin.

Septima Vector proved to be an extremely engaging professor. She was about Moony's age and was very much like a stern Dora Tonks (?). She was also one of the youngest internationally recognised mistresses of the subject. She gave the class a brief introduction towards the basis of Arithmancy. Gryffindor was one of the first ever Masters of Arithmancy. The idea was born from the very simplest of needs. How many wards can one person sustain? How to make a spell more efficient? How to make a new spell at all? What is the maximum power output possible under given conditions? It seemed so much like an amalgamation of magical maths and physics, that Harry truly liked it. They were to start small, with analyses of spells and the focussing of power through incantations and wand movements. Harry participated most enthusiastically, much to his classmates' surprise.

Transfiguration was, for all intents and purposes, a revision for Harry. The subject was animagi. Harry did not need the quiet glumness that pervaded the class to know that the old fraud had predicted someone's death. It was Trelawney's hobby. It was her form of welcome. This time around, it was Ron who bore the brunt of her 'Sight'. He had got the teacup with the Grim. His stricken face and morose demeanour was being offset by Harry's immense need to laugh out, or snigger.

"I take it that some of you had Divination, before now?" Professor McGonagall asked curtly. Glum nods and sympathetic nods towards Ron were the only answers. Ron for his part sat with his shoulders drooping and face deathly pale.

"WEASLEY!" barked the Professor. "Was it you?" Ron could only nod.

Dean spoke up instead. "He got some black dog creature in his teacup, Professor. Everyone calls it a Grim."

The class was treated to a new sight. Minerva McGonagall, prudish, uptight, stern deputy Headmistress laughed – she outright laughed! "Mr. Weasley, I believe that that was another of Sybil's welcomes. If you spoke to your friends, you will find that your worries are unfounded. Unless you drop dead, which I do not think you will, you will not be excused from homework. If I have told that woman once, I have told her a thousand times. Forget whatever she said!" The lesson went on with people paying attention to Minerva, but chiefly, the attention was driven towards Ron.

Minerva was teaching the standard method, telling them about the potion and tokens and other (to Harry and Neville) inane stuff. She touched on the magic forcing method briefly, and glared when Harry and Neville grinned. As she told them how the animagus form showed the greatest resemblance to the person's mental and physical state, and personality, Harry surmised that in the Original Timeline, he would have been a black, emaciated wolf. It was a description of his being. Dogged, resilient, vicious and brave when faced with danger, but downtrodden; it expressed him fully.

Once the lecture was done, Minerva detained Ron and Harry, and by extension Hermione and Neville. "Harry, I really think you should allay Mr. Weasley's fears. This cannot go on." Harry did not like it much, but on a balance, it was a better option compared to introducing Ron to Padfoot. He had Ron close his eyes and transformed into the large bearlike/wolfish dog pup. In hindsight, getting Ron to close his eyes wasn't the wisest thing to do. He screamed and floundered in his seat.

Finally Hermione barked in frustration. "RON!" she scolded. Harry transformed right in front of Ron's eyes and promptly fell to the floor laughing. Lately, he had been managing to do a Sirius quite often. Neville looked at Ron with pity and at Harry with questions about his sanity etched across his face.

"Hermione!" gasped Ron. "Harry is really a grim! Stay away!"

That only increased Hermione's ire, Harry's laughter, and Neville's doubts about Ron's mental state too. Minerva was, in a word flabbergasted. _That_ wasn't what she expected. She brought Ron a calming draught from her personal medical stores, and made him drink it, meaningfully glancing at Neville and then at a still laughing Harry. Neville levitated Harry into an upright position, and then proceeded to smack him on the shoulder to stop his madness. Hermione added a swat to the back of his head for good measure.

Finally, when they had all calmed down quite a bit, Ron spluttered again. "You are a grim!"

"I am an animagus you prat! And yes, my form is that of a Grim! I became one before the summer!"

"But you are a grim animagus!" Ron wouldn't leave his panic.

"Now that we have established a firm grasp of the obvious can we move on from here?"

"But-"

"Honestly, Ronald!" growled Harry, so much like the Pup, that Ron flinched. "Yes I am an animagus, and yes, my form is that of a Grim. If you had seen my Patroni well yesterday, you would have seen that Padfoot is a Grim! Get over it! In my absolutely honest opinion, it is rather poetic that I have Death's companion as my form. I nearly die at least once each year, yet I live. I walk with Death as an equal!" Minerva, Neville and Ron were all struck by the curious statement. It was the description of the third of the three brothers in the story by Beedle the Bard. "So yes, I am a Grim, and frankly, being in that form is much more comfortable than being a human! Are you going to drop dead each time you see me?"

Ron only imitated a fish. Minerva stepped in here. "Mr. Weasley, that class called Divination is absolute foolishness. Unless you have the sight, it is no use at all. I know you took it for an easy pass, but this is beyond the pale. Harry felt abandoned by the school, though not you, last year, and needed to be something fearful because people were attacking him. He became an animagus. Is there any other reason to fear the person who has been your friend for two years, apart from his animagus form?"

"No," replied Ron with strained resignation. What he said next was a testament to the idea that Ron was changing, perhaps for the better. "Listen Harry, I am sorry, okay? It is just that all my life I have known about an uncle who died a day after seeing a Grim. It's hard to let go of things like that. It is all too much, too soon. On one hand I see you behaving like the definition of a true Slytherin, according to you, and I can say it is effective. On the other hand, I have always seen Slytherins as evil people, chiefly because of Death Eaters. I truly don't know what to think. I'll come around, but it will take time."

It was really nice of Ron to acknowledge the fact at least at face value and to admit that he was struggling with conditioning. Harry smiled. This was Ron, who was trying, consciously or not, to be better. "That's okay mate. I can understand. I think that it is the same way I feel perhaps when I look at your family, or Hermione's, or when I see Granny Min or Neville's Gran. Just like you had developed certain beliefs, I had come to believe that family was something I was never to be a part of, due to the Dursleys. It took me some time to come around to your Mum actually not being like every other adult around me. I can understand it." Ron's eyes widened, even as Neville and Minerva had angry scowls on their faces. Hermione's eyes narrowed.

"Say, what do you think of pranking the woman? I have an idea," Harry added as an afterthought, a truly deviant grin lighting his features, after they left the classroom. "Let's introduce old Professor Trelawney to fortune cookies." Harry had a very good reason for keeping his friends in a good mood. If he was going to destroy the Wizengamot thoroughly, he was going to be seen as a Dark Lord presumptive. Each of his actions had been with that in mind.

Hermione burst out laughing. If there was a reason to like a prank, it was to put Ron out of the funk the fraud had induced. Seeing two uncomprehending faces, she explained the hidden message and the concept behind the fortune cookies. Ron was aghast that someone had put something to read inside the cookie, but once he prank had been explained, he could not help but want to try it.

* * *

After a rather sedate lunch, when Harry made a point to tell all Gryffindors how to open the Monster book of Monsters – and also sent a note to Nott regarding it – they left for the grounds, where Hagrid would be conducting his first ever lecture. They had not seen Hagrid since the train the previous evening. Seeing him now was one enormous surprise, in every way that the word would mean.

Hagrid was dressed in his usual gamekeeper's clothes, although his attire was cleaner, and neat. Harry idly wondered what he had done to the dormice that would take up residence in his large overcoat. He had cut down his hair to a very manageable length, and had shaved off his beard and moustache. It was very, _very_ odd to look at Hagrid. It was as if someone had taken an endearing vestige of normalcy and torn it to shreds. It seemed almost criminal the way he changed how he looked now. Harry felt like throwing a tantrum about it.

There was also the fact that Hagrid had started with a fairly manageable creature. Bowtruckles – Hagrid had started with bowtruckles. He led them all through the trees to a part of the forest just before the part where it deepened. As he started the explanation, Harry realised something else. Hagrid's speech was clean and clear and grammatically correct. If he hadn't known that it was impossible to Imperius or Polyjuice as a half giant, he would have heavily suspected it.

"Well, now, class, gather around. First things first, how many of you managed to open the books?"

All the Gryffindors and quite a few of the Slytherins raised their hands.

"How many of you were told how to do it?" Barring Crabbe, and Harry, everyone else put their hands down.

"It doesn't matter. Let me tell you how this class will be taught. In nature, you have to experience and gain from that experience. You have to learn in a hands-on manner. You can learn from your own as well as others' experiences. To those of you who tried to manage and open the books on your own, ten points each. To those who listened to others' experiences, and gained from that, five points each."

Malfoy, largely silent since the previous day, decided to impede Hagrid's class. "So how do you open the books then?"

"I could tell you the answer, but I would rather lead you to it. Think, Mr. Malfoy. You have belted up your book, but even a person like **_you_** must see that the book is **_like_** an animal. Is an animal more likely to obey you if you simply tie it up? Or is it more likely to respond to loving care, and be coaxed? Magical or muggle, all animals are alike in one very important way. They respond well to love and respect. They are soulful, sentient beings. Treat them as such."

"Well, tell me then, how do you show an animal love?" Malfoy sneered. Hagrid simply took the git's book and stroked its spine, making it purr in delight.

"Oh! How foolish of me it was to not understand the simple way to treat it!" Malfoy sneered. "This class is one for brutes!"

Malfoy really was grating on everyone's nerves. He was clearly smarting from his loss of position. Barring Pansy, he had no support in Slytherin anymore, and that was bound to hurt.

"Then you should reconsider your decision to choose this class Mr. Malfoy. Do not test my patience. I have no intention of keeping a _Pansy_ like you, when you are clearly intent on disrupting the lesson. Please report to your Head of House immediately. I will not tolerate such behaviour. Leave."

The whole class looked upon the scene with open mouths. Hagrid, sweet, innocent, child-in-a-giant's-body Hagrid, had ruthlessly put Malfoy and Pansy down by behaving authoritatively as a teacher should?

Hagrid paid no mind to it at all, instead choosing to take the rest of the class towards a tree, standing a bit away from it. "Now, what do you know about bowtruckles?"

Hermione raised her hand on instinct. "They are wand-tree guardians."

"That is correct, Ms. Granger. Take five points." He took down a bowtruckle gently from the tree, and pinned its spindly appendages to its sides. "Keep aside anything you may know about the creature, and describe it to me."

"It looks like a twig."

"It looks like a living twig or a stick insect."

"Is that a manner of camouflage?"

"All the bowtruckles in the trees are eating insects which will rot the tree."

"All of you are correct. The bowtruckle does live in trees as it is heavily feasted upon by large predatory birds or snakes. Now their camouflage instincts are related to the wand properties of the particular tree. All of you may see that your wands have no imperfections, and are sleek and straight. You will see the similarity with a bowtruckle's body. Now, the less work on the wand-wood required, the better is the wood quality. Do you see the link? Bowtruckles don't exactly thrive in species, so to say. But a bowtruckle born on any tree will resemble that tree and always make its home and mate in other trees of the same type. A holly-bowtruckle will always nest in a holly tree, and so on. Doesn't the bowtruckle look, I don't know, peaceful and shy? Well, see this." He brought out a large branch of beech from his coat, and placed the spindly creature on it. He then approached it with a large cleaver. The bowtruckle immediately shot out its sharp fingers and scratched Hagrid's hand. "This is what happens when you threaten its home. Now, have you all brought along the parchment and sketching equipment? Your syllabus up to OWLs requires you to sketch creatures belonging to the XX to the XXXX category, the later being fewer. Form groups of four, and get a bowtruckle from me. One of you will hold it, and the other three will sketch. Once one of you is done, swap. When you take the bowtruckle from me, I will show you how to recognise whether it is male or female. The markers are so small, that they can't be shown to all simultaneously."

The lesson progressed well. By the end, each of Harry, Hermione, Neville and Ron were done with their sketches. Harry had only needed to soothe the creature when he held it, and then exchanged places with Hermione. To say that the lecture was a resounding success was a massive understatement. Hagrid had started smartly, had held his own, had pressed his authority and had taught exceedingly well. He had managed none of that in the Original Timeline When they were all done, Hagrid assigned them homework, neatly outlining his expectations. As they returned their individual bowtruckles, Harry made a point to bow to him and bid, "Thank you and good day, Beast Master Hagrid!" Hagrid looked at him disdainfully and grunted.

"That was awesome!" Hermione gushed. It was fulsome praise and effusive, particularly given the fact that all of them knew about Hagrid's unfortunate obsession with anything larger than himself or dangerous enough to be termed fatal.

"Tell me about it!" Ron agreed.

"All along I thought Hagrid only knew creatures like Fluffy – unfortunately existent and inappropriately named," muttered Neville, very much shocked and still refusing to believe that it was Hagrid who had conducted their lecture, garnering guffaws from the others. Harry was still bewildered by Hagrid's behaviour.

* * *

Bathsheba Babbling's Ancient Runes class had the same students as the Arithmancy class, except for Goyle. She was about Minerva's age, with the same stern countenance, but with the voice of a singer. She started off with a practical demonstration, creating a torch by sketching runes on her desk, making it glow brightly. She then told them about the continental Runes, druidic Runes, Norse Runes, Middle-Eastern hieroglyphics, subcontinental hymn carvings, oriental power letters, and the native North and South American pictographs. It was actually a mix of magical archaeology, ritual magic, magical theory and languages. This was exciting, and Harry could already envision the uses it would have in technomancy and enchanting. Sirius had shown him the mirror and had promised to teach him how to make one by summer. That would be the magical answer to mobile phones.

* * *

The new timeline had seen several changes already, as far as school was concerned. With both Neville and Harry done for the day, at least till later at night when they'd have astronomy as they no longer had lessons with Snivellus, they sent off a grumbling Ron and disapproving Hermione off to potions. They had a prank to plan. They headed off to the kitchens, where the house-elves would be very happy to aid them.

They had fun creating several fortune chits each, the sort that could be easily reproduced as pranks. They would then be having Ron masquerade as a Seer, selling the cookies for ten sickles each. If anyone was foolish enough to fall for those, they'd deserve the good prank that they'd be at the end of.

Harry was absolutely bloody thankful that he had a detention with Moony at six thirty. At the end of the potions lecture, both Neville and Harry had been summoned to the Headmaster's office. They had made it a point to inform and take along Minerva. If he even tried foisting Snape on them, Merlin so help him, Harry was going to tear both the bastards to pieces (though he wasn't sure which bastard – the Headmaster or Snape). They reached the office and with some dramatic muggle sweet password, were admitted to the stairs to the office. Harry was not even surprised to see Snape inside. It was expected.

"Thank you Minerva, for escorting the boys here. You may leave." In another time, she might have budged, but Minerva was now firmly by her two cubs.

"Headmaster, I am here as required by the Hogwarts charter of duties as the Head of House for Gryffindor. I will not leave."

Dumbledore pulled a disappointed mien. "I assure you Minerva, that..."

"I beg your pardon, Headmaster, but both Mr. Longbottom and I believe that it is necessary for our Head of House to be with us. It would be circumventing legal procedure and you would be guilty of taking the law into your own hands for forcing us to be in a room with a person against whom both of us have a restraining order. Not that you are a novice at doing that." From the corner of his eye, he saw Snivellus turn an admirably annoyed shade of puce.

"Harry..."

"Please refer to me as Mr. Potter, sir. We don't have any familial relationship, and even if we did, it's unbecoming of your professional status."

They had taken the strategy of Harry leading. Neville, as a capable, if untrained, legillimancer, could subtly observe the two 'Professors' while Harry kept them engaged. If people – even Masters at Mind Arts – were riled up enough, they became susceptible to information extraction by surface scans. And riling and infuriating people was an art in the Marauders' genes.

"Mr. Potter," continued Dumbledore condescendingly, "I've read the restraining order against Professor Snape. I ask you to reconsider the terms. I'm only worried about your potions studies."

"We'll not reconsider our stand on this, Headmaster. We have come to know that Mr. Snape is a Death Eater, and we refuse to be taught by him. A Death Eater is a murderer, and given how our families were destroyed by them, I hope you can appreciate our reluctance. As for our Potions studies, by the Hogwarts student charter, amendment 37, section 186b, of the year 1782, we are allowed to employ a private tutor to teach us a subject, if we are unhappy or uncomfortable with a particular teacher. The only prerequisite is that said tutor should have a Mastery approved in the British Isles in the subject. Potions-Mistress Andromeda Tonks nee Black is a much acclaimed tutor, and comes with the recommendations by several upstanding people in the society, none of whom are Death Eaters. So, thank you for your concern, but we have handled the matter." Snape who had been insulting James was getting more and more riled up by the minute. Harry simply behaved as if the man did not exist. "Is that all sir? I believe we had sent signed petitions through our lawyers for the restraining order, which were allowed by the Wizengamot. We have also sent in the contract for Madam Tonks along with copies of the restraining order."

Harry could see that the old man was losing his patience and anger quite quickly. Harry found that Fawkes wasn't around, and was nearly bouncing with glee. Dumbledore would do something illegal!

"I will have you know that Professor Snape has my complete trust. As for the petition, I can understand Mr. Longbottom's withdrawal from Professor Snape's classes, though I cannot commend it. You, Mr. Potter, cannot do so without my permission, as I am your magical guardian." The smug tone and face that he wore nearly made the boys snort in laughter.

"As for the issue of trust, please convey my congratulations to Mr. Snape, Headmaster. As for the other matter, I feel very disappointed, that **_you_** are the fraudulent guardian who has been censured by the Wizarding Orphans and Child Services. You see, I had another Guardian by law, by oath, and by blood. And unlike you, I would trust this other guardian to look out for my welfare. Chief Bones and an Auror checked on the conditions at my so-called home with those abusive muggles, where you, my supposed guardian had dumped me like yesterday's trash, no doubt justifying your actions by the idea that I would die anyway to kill Death Eater Snape's true Master once and for all. Your guardianship has been overruled. The Dursleys and I have officially renounced each other. My guardian has given me permission to file the petition. You have no say in this, Headmaster." Harry was of course, referring not to his godfather, Sirius, but to himself, now that he was emancipated.

By the end of his speech, Dumbledore had gone so pale, that his beard and face were indistinguishable. "Do you understand what you have done, Potter? You have taken away protections from your family!"

"I haven't done anything of that sort, Sir. My family, and that is to say the people I consider family are excellently protected, even from the sort of scum that you seem to employ. I must warn you to not take that tone with me, Dumbledore. You don't own me. I am not your pawn, your minion or weapon. Try meddling with my matters and you will not like it."

"Is that a threat, Mr. Potter?" asked Dumbledore condescendingly.

Neville answered in Harry's stead. "No, _Mister_ Dumbledore, it is a promise. You will find that you and your little pet dark death eater might face reckoning and judgement soon enough. My brother simply warned you about that. For example, the abomination that sits to my left, your Potions Master, has been sending Legillimency probes at us. It is illegal to do so to anyone, and more so to the Heirs or Lords of Ancient and Most Noble Houses."

This, more than anything else, got to Snape. He sent a Legillimency probe to understand the extent of all that Potter had managed to do over the summer. It was ridiculously easy. Harry had put together the minesweeper defence in such a way, that it clustered around the source of intrusion. Snape had no chance. Before he could even begin to marvel at the well-developed mindscape, he had stepped on a couple of mines, and was blown out of Harry's mind. Snape was so forcibly repelled, that he was actually, physically thrown against the wall behind him. It broke a couple of bones in his body, at least, and there were some internal wounds too, as was evident from the blood trickling out of his nose. He moaned in pain.

"That is yet another illegal Legillimency attack. And your greasy pet performed it against the Heir of an Ancient and Most Noble House. He will find his own judgement soon, Headmaster. Order your pet to stay the hell out of our minds. He is unwelcome within the sanctums of personal purity, unlike his perverted lustful mind." Neville's words were cold and authoritative, and they caught Dumbledore cold. This boy had never had any confidence. Where did that come from?

Harry crouched near Snape, and muttered, "Hello, Snivellus. You will find your reckoning soon at the hands of us brothers. Do you know how much control it takes to not kill you where you- well, not stand, but lay? But fear not, I will do it, or perhaps, I will get someone better to do it. How would it feel to see Lily Evans casting a Cruciatus on you? I am warning you – go after anyone, bully anyone, especially those I call my friends and family, and I will quite legally exterminate you. Do you understand?" Snape's eyes widened at that in fear and hatred.

Harry stood up, and looked at the prone form of the potions master in disgust. "'It' will live, and even will be able to work... unfortunately. We know what 'it' has done. Every Death Eater is a petty criminal, well, not petty really, who cannot feel remorse. It is unfortunate that I would hate for its rotting blood stench to befoul Hogwarts. I won't feel a shred of regret if I need to blast his head apart, or slice his dirty, greasy head off, or using any Unforgivable on him. You see, I do hate him that much." He sneered at Snape and then Dumbledore in distaste. "He will have a nervous twitch and a slur as long as he lives. I tore his legillimency probe to shreds."

Dumbledore made to protest when Neville threw him a very filthy look and said with a tone reeking with finality, "Well I think Harry and I are done here. Professor McGonagall? I think we shall leave now."

* * *

Once they were out of the Headmaster's office, Neville and Harry shared an impromptu jig and wild celebrations. Neville was proud that he had taken down the bastard that had killed his grandfather, and delivered his parents and godparents to Voldemort. That the bastard still had the guts to bully him was something that enraged Neville further. Harry on the other hand was proud for the same reasons and more. He had done what the Marauders couldn't – he was on the way to legally cleansing the world and Hogwarts of one greasy git. Minerva was having problems keeping a straight face. She was going to tell everything to the staff at a meeting as soon as possible. Filius, Pomona and Poppy would be joining her for a wee dram later. She had just seen Charlus (or was it James and Sirius?) at work again. She escorted Harry to Moony's office and Neville to the Gryffindor tower. She needed that meeting soon, so she asked Lupin to cut short the detention as much as he could. He needed to know this.

Inside the room, a nearly defunct and dying man, gargled in pain comparable to any that his Lord heaped on him, while the Headmaster sat with his head in his hands, wondering how things had escalated to the situation that he found himself in. He had known it was wrong from the very moment that Fawkes had flown away at even the mention of Severus. He couldn't believe what he had seen. Had Harry stepped down the path of Darkness finally?

* * *

Moony was observing the cub quietly as they had another stare-war. Minerva had turned up with an extremely proud expression, even as Harry had worn the most James-esque smug, proud and mischievous grin. Plus his eyes did the same sparkly thing that Lily's did. At long last, he broke the silence.

"Mr. Potter, while this may be a detention, I actually wanted to discuss your excellent Patronus spell. And for your actions and medical attention to Ms. Greengrass, I wish to award both you and Mr. Longbottom fifty points each."

"Thank you, sir. May I have some stationery, please, sir?" Moony eyed Harry oddly, but acquiesced.

 _ **Please cast a detection spell for any sort of spying/ monitoring spells. VIGILANCE should be CONSTANT, should it not?**_ he wrote.

Moony chuckled, but complied all the same. He was astounded, as twelve monitoring spells came up in the detection. He undid them all. Only Albus would have done it. There was also another spell, but he couldn't quite understand what it was. It seemed to connect him, the chair, and the drawer in his desk that held his Teacher's contract and the entire office as such. Harry recognised the gleam for what it was. It was Voldemort's curse.

"Professor, please keep the detection spell on." He then proceeded to push his magic to call to Hogwarts, as Slytherin's Hogwarts Journal stated. He asked for aid against the malevolent spell. He could feel the sentience that surrounded them accept the plea. Pushing his magic against the curse, which had formidable power, Harry willed it to the chair. He couldn't have destroyed the spell itself, but by giving it something to encompass, he forced all the power of the spell onto a disposable item. Moony could see that something was happening. The chair had started vibrating hard, and was now glowing. It was a sickly pinkish red. The detection spell was also showing the magic of the unknown spell being concentrated onto the chair and reducing from the whole room rapidly. After fifteen minutes of an extreme power struggle, Harry was finally done.

"Destroy the chair! Destroy it beyond repair! Use Fiendfyre!" he panted. By now, Moony was sure that whatever was going on was beyond his understanding, at least, till the Prongslet explained. He was also shocked that Prongslet knew about Fiendfyre, of all things. He conjured a thick lead box, and placed the chair inside it.

"Explain."

"Professor, I think we just dealt with why no DADA Professor ever worked for more than one year. I have been researching Voldemort's past a lot. He is not dead. He wanted the job, and so, when the Headmaster denied him that, placed this jinx. Promise me not to tell anyone," he faltered, as he felt the exhaustion. "Promise me Moony...promise..." and he collapsed in a dead faint.

"Cub!" shouted Moony. Harry knew! He knew him! The delirious happiness was overridden by worry. He sent his Patronus to Minerva and called her over. He needed to take Harry to the Hospital Wing. The two Professors rushed Harry to the Hospital Wing, and Poppy wasted no time in directing Remus to Harry's bed, which coincidentally, was the same as James'.

* * *

"What is it now with this boy?" growled Poppy. "Not even a day has passed since term started and he is already here with magical exhaustion? What was going on?"

Moony told them all that had occurred before he even started with the cub's detection. He told them all about the curse, and what he had done to combat it, including his instructions for destroying the chair with Fiendfyre.

"How did he even know about Fiendfyre, Minerva? He called me Moony! It is all too much too soon, and I don't know what to do! My thoughts are all over the place!"

That complicated matters. "Remus, there are things going on that I truthfully don't know how to explain to you. So much has happened since he killed that basilisk, and fought one of YKW's Horcruxes..."

"WHAT?" Moony's harsh whisper and amber eyes showed exactly what lurked beneath his human countenance.

"Calm down. I need to tell you and Filius this. Swear to me, above anything that you have ever sworn to Albus, never to tell what I tell you now." Remus did not waste time at all. When he was done, Minerva continued. "Harry was a Horcrux, Remus. He was YKW's accidental Horcrux." Hearing that, the wolf strained against Remus' conscious. The cub had borne **_that?_** It was worse than being a werewolf!

"He destroyed two Horcruxes- that scar, and YKW's diary. He nearly died Remus! And it unlocked all his memories from before that Halloween! Dumbledore did several wrongs, Remus, and not treating Harry was one of them!"

Remus wanted to howl. His cub, his pack had been harmed. He would tear Dumbledore limb from limb! Any favours to him would be damned. Minerva wasn't done though.

"But that is not all. He placed him with the Dursleys, and they-they a-abused him, Remus!" Minerva broke down completely at this point. Remus was torn between morbid fascination at watching Minerva react the way she was, and wanting to unleash the wolf upon Dumbledore and the Dursleys, and Sirius.

"It is all because of Sirius," he ground out.

"N-No, it isn't, Remus. Sirius could've never done that. He is Harry's magically sworn godfather!"

Remus sat down. He had known that James had named Padfoot as the godfather, but not that they had performed the ritual. All the beliefs that he had held for twelve long years were crashing. But that meant Sirius wasn't the secret-keeper. Who was it then? Unless...it was Wormtail! That meant Sirius killed Wormtail in revenge! Sirius was avenging Prongs' and Lily's death! He could bear it no longer. He punched the wall beside him as hard as he could, again and again, till the wall started crumbling under the wolf's strength, and Remus' knuckles started bruising. And then he could bear that no longer either, and he broke down too. He had pitied himself all these years, drinking, cursing Sirius, and remembering Wormtail and Prongs and Lily. And all these years, his little cub and the lone remaining brother of his pack were going through hell. What had he done? What had Wormtail done? What had Dumbledore done?

* * *

Minerva gathered Neville, Hermione and Ron to her. She needed to inform them why Harry wouldn't be returning to the Tower that night. It wouldn't do for them to roam around.

"Ms. Granger, Mr. Weasley, Mr. Longbottom, I have to tell you that Mr. Potter won't be returning to the Tower tonight. He had a detention with Professor Lupin, and there was an incident." Seeing the three faces contort in suspicion, she sighed. "Look, can you three keep a secret, just like Harry no doubt wants his animagus form to be kept secret?"

"Yes, Ma'am," came the answers.

"Well, you know how no DADA Professors lasted more than a year? Voldemort had cast a curse on the position, and Harry helped the Professor find it. But without waiting for a curse-breaker, he decided that he could overpower that thirty year old curse. The nature of the curse was such that it strengthened over time. Harry did just that, but has suffered magical exhaustion. He is in the hospital wing, and is sleeping. He will be back tomorrow, as he is fairly magically strong."

Hermione promptly had a massive blow-up, as she ranted, "Not even a day of the term is done, and he's already gone and fought Voldemort again! Why does he keep doing this?"

Neville and Ron, meanwhile, just mouthed "Blimey!" before Neville quipped, "That is a new record, even for Harry!"

* * *

Once Minerva was done telling Remus, Pomona, and Filius about everything that had happened in the Headmaster's cabin, after she, the Charms and the DADA Professor had used Fiendfyre to destroy the chair, all she got as a reply was stunned silence. Minerva had to check to see whether they were petrified.

"Are you telling me, that Severus had a hand in the Potters' deaths? That he is the one responsible for what has happened to the Longbottoms?" asked Filius, his Garnarukro sense of honour making him blister in indignation.

"In a word: yes," Minerva replied with a nod. "He murdered Charlus, Dorea and Gerald, and in Harry's own words, handed over the Potters and Longbottoms for the kill to YKW."

"Albus let us be in the same castle as a murderer?" Pomona asked scandalised.

"He did. In Albus' defence, however, it wasn't truly his choice."

"What o you mean?"

"Albus has been under a curse by You-know-Who since 1979. It is why he has behaved in such a perplexing manner, contrary to what was expected of him. I o not now whether you now of the curse, but it has subdued Albus' tempered, wiser and, in a word, 'good' tendencies, whie enhancing his manipulative ones."

"And Severus...?"

"...is quite possibly the controller. Remember, this doesn't go outside this room. The DMLE will soon reveal the extent of a Death Eater's depravity. At such time, Severus will be taken care of. Till such time, we will only work to protect the students from them."

"Dear Merlin!" breathed Pomona, as the three Heads and Remus took up the promise. "Since when have you known this?"

"Since the summer," Minerva replied with a smile, in spite of herself. "Harry is the closest thing I'll ever have to a grandchild. We lived in a Potter House this summer." With the Fidelius in place, that was the closest that they could be told. Her colleagues smiled at that, knowing how lonely she had been, particularly since the passing of the Potters.

A short silence later, Sprout asked a question that bothered her. "What did you mean by the depravity of the Death Eaters, Minerva?"

"Any Death Eater is the same, Pomona. Harry has been studying the dark mark with Gringotts, this summer. They found out that it can only be earned in a ritual, and there can be no Imperius. If that happens, it does not remain binding. The ritual pertains to the rape, torture and murder of a virgin muggle or muggleborn. Well that's conjecture: I doubt any pureblood would take it lying down if a daughter of his House was found murdered and violated," she added objectively. All three made disgusted faces. Minerva then proceeded to tell them, under oath of secrecy, everything that had happened, right from Lucius' attack to the destruction of Snape, including the Horcruxes.

Filius turned green. "That boy has lived through that? He can turn into a Grim, a Griffin named Firewing, and a Dragon- an Elder Dragon?"

"Yes."

"Minerva, from here onwards, I need to, as one descended from the Garnarukran, to keep regular contact with him. The name Griffinheart is not lightly given. I can tell you that even the Lord-Director must be calling him Lord Griffinheart. This changes things totally. And Horcruxes! Such evil, evil that cannot even be imagined by a sane person! I promise to help him Minerva, all that I can. I failed him when he needed help last year, but he has fought! He has fought against everything that was thrown at him."

Pomona meanwhile was ashamed. "Our actions drove him to be a Grim to protect himself. I used to think that I was a good teacher, Minnie. And I find that I am just a failure! We failed him, and James and Lily, Minnie. We failed them."

Remus though had learnt something new. His cub was nothing if not wilful. He was not called the brains of the marauders for nothing. "Are you three willing to keep yet another secret?" When he received three nods, he continued, "I do not think that Sirius' innocence was a surprise to Harry. In fact, as he did not receive a trial, and his wand wasn't checked, as Albus told you, there is a possibility that he never killed Peter. If I know James, Lily and Harry right, then one thing that runs in the family is this. They will out-prank and outlast the whole world. Harry might have somehow broken Sirius out of Azkaban."

"What?"

"Yes. It is my guess. I think, for now, we must not press Harry about anything, and I too, will act as if nothing ever happened, and he didn't call me Moony. If I read the situation right, there are very odd times ahead."


	30. Chapter 30

**Moony and Other Problems**

* * *

Even though Harry is blaming Dumbledore here, the rant is born out of confusion. It is easy to hate Dumbledore for him, but is he really correct in it? Also references to Neville's and Harry's brotherly bonhomie in the OT, are a small but necessary deviation. This is also a pop at the usual Dumbledore bashing. Harry is a Gary Stu for this chapter for everyone who bashes Dumbledore for everything. He was after all, still just one man.

* * *

Friday morning started poorly for Harry. He had woken in the Hospital Wing, again. Not even a day had passed and he was back there. He sat up, groaning, scratching, yawning and stretching. That unfortunately brought the attention of the evil queen of the Hospital wing. She was upon him in a trice, muttering, incanting, waving her wand over him and just about doing everything pertaining to magical diagnosis that made Harry nervous, however accustomed to it he became. When she was done, she kept glowering at him in a disapproving fashion as he weakly went about his morning routine.

Once he was done, she bade him to the examination table again with a loud, angry hum. "One day!" she scolded. "All I ask of you is to stay out of here for one day, the first day of term! And then you go and do things like whatever you did! Not even James was that bad! Go now! You are alright, physically!" She stalked off after giving him the evil eye, muttering about mentally retarded Potters and Gryffindors. Harry could only shrug in bewilderment. Unfortunately, her behaviour proved to be the precedent of the way he would be treated through the day.

Harry arrived at breakfast to be congratulated heartily by the twins. He had broken their record of earning a detention the very night of the 1st of September, twice in two years. Apart from that, the prank itself was masterful. For one, it was on a Professor. For another, it was on a _new_ Professor. Then he had gone and earned a fifty points for the prank. The further hundred points for the Hamper and the treatment of Astoria had shot Gryffindor high very fast. It achieved him celebrity status with the twins.

His other friends however, weren't forgiving him. Nor was Granny Min forgiving him, for that matter. All of them had probably learnt the 'evil eye' technique from Madam Pomfrey. He sat down beside them, and looked at them in turn. They still kept up the evil eye. He finished his meal. And they had still kept up their glare. "Alright, what is the matter with you three?"

"You skipped Snape!" yelled Ron. "You left his potions classes and didn't tell me! I thought I was your friend!"

"If told you, and you had skipped, it would've made things difficult for Ginny, the twins and Percy, you prat! For Merlin's sake, stop thinking with a one track mind!" Harry hissed, cutting him up short. "And as for why I won't learn from him, there are reasons why neither Nev nor I will learn from that murderer! And you don't need to worry, that git won't be alive for long! I will kill him myself, if I don't get the 'Dementor's Kiss' approved for him." Hermione looked even more perturbed by that. Lately, Harry had started talking about killing and punishment, and atonement and what-not. She felt as if he had developed bloodlust.

"What ails you, Ms. Granger?" Harry asked, turning towards her angrily. He had lately been finding her very irritating, in spite of her supposedly being his soul-mate. Somehow, in spite of the fact that he knew Hermione was the one person who by priority balanced out every other person in the world, he was not very keen on Cassiopeia's meddling in the matter. Lately she had been insistent that he

"What were you thinking, going after whatever curse it was that YKW had set? Are you mad?"

"Hermione, as Lord Gryffindor and Lord Slytherin, it is my duty to the school to take care of such matters! Eventually, things would have escalated to such a level, that every new DADA Professor wouldn't have lasted a day! They would've been killed like flies! Shouldn't I have done what I could've?"

"But you were back in the infirmary!"

"That was just a little magical exhaustion, Hermione," Harry replied soothingly. He had hidden his anger behind his shields again.

"'A little magical exhaustion' was it, Potter? Why can't you stay out of the Hospital Wing for even the first day of the term?"

"Are you sure you are not Madam Pomfrey using Polyjuice? She said those exact same words!"

"Shut it! I am worried, you know!"

"Well, don't be, me bonny lass. Me and me hearties be takin' the paddle and whomping the potion master's saddle afore me date with the Locker of Davy Jones, poppet! I be shuttin' it down fer me an' me mates fer years ta come! Care for some grease off his stringy hair to burn the night lamp, eh?" he asked her, waggling his eyebrows.

"Pirates," Hermione said while slapping her forehead in annoyance, as the subject was soon dropped.

"And you, me hearty, what beats your heart ta make me walk the plank, eh? Lost yer port and rum, didja?"

"Huh? Well, I didn't have any bone to pick mate. It was just funny to watch you squirm when we were glaring," Neville replied with a snicker.

"Git!" swore Harry, as he flicked his wand at Neville, turning his body and clothes brown and his head and arms green. That caused everyone around to burst out laughing. Neville assumed that it was at Harry's weak comeback, so he grinned smugly.

"See, you can't even get in a good comeback!" he crowed.

It was never really sensible to go on the wrong side of the son, godson and nephew of Marauders. With another discreet flick of Harry's wand, Neville had green hair growing from his arms and head. It curled around itself to create the appearance of foliage. Neville now fairly resembled a young Ent – an Enting.

"Really, Lord of the Rings?" asked Hermione, unable to restrain her sniggers. Neville looked at her obliviously.

Further answer was not required, as Susan who was passing by, stopped to look at Neville. "Neville, is that you? You are Neville Longbottom right?" she asked the weird looking tree.

"I am, Susan," Neville replied uncertainly. "Why are you asking me that?"

"Well, I guess you took your love for plants a bit too far. I didn't know you wanted to look like a tree," she said with a completely straight face.

Neville looked at her in confusion, before turning to Harry, Ron and Hermione, who were clearly trying not to laugh. "It was you! I swear Hadrian! You will get your comeuppance, you mangy mutt!" The Great Hall was soon treated to the extremely amusing sight of a tree chasing a boy out of the doors.

* * *

The week progressed rather sedately, with Moony not alluding to the detention curse-breaking incident at all. 'The Chair' had been destroyed by Fiendfyre that very night, so it was no longer a consideration. Charms lectures were proving to be very difficult. Evidently, Moony had told Flitwick about the Patroni, so he had gotten them to speak to all his classes. Having never spoken to a group before, Neville felt stage fright, till Harry asked the Professor to use a memory and a pensieve. Oddly enough, he had also taken to calling Harry Lord Griffinheart, and always conversed with him in Glenskrad. It had led to not just a few odd looks, but also knowledge-envy from Hermione, who hadn't spoken to him for two days. Harry started retaliating in the same manner. Hermione had brought out the waterworks. When it came to learning, Hermione's sins of envy and greed could manifest in a most enchantingly infuriating way. Flitwick had observed the tension and had explained to Hermione, that the reason why he always spoke to Harry in Glenskrad was his status as an honoured one in the court of the Lord Director Ragnok. By rights, he was the Garnarukran teacher for Harry. They had also found that Harry and Neville's binding problems were offset by a little acceleration of their course load.

A further oddity was the pair – Dumbledore and Snape. At each meal, they were greeted by Snape scowling, Dumbledore eyeing Neville and Harry with a disappointed look, and alternating it with a pained, intrigued and beseeching look. It confused the hell out of the two. It had irritated them so much, that they had pushed up their plan for pranking Snape. Harry and Neville had spent hours researching a potion which caused the drinker to feel ecstatic. Then they had procured some Veritaserum, and a buffer to stop the two from alchemically interacting. And last, but not the least, they had placed a piece of parchment bearing the words _'I am a Teapot'_ and 'the truth about your loyalty as a Death Eater' bearing strong (even by Harry's standards) compulsion charms in front of Snape via elf-express. As soon as Snivellus had taken a sip of his morning tea, he had felt a delirious happiness wash over him. Then he saw the wonderful words on the parchment. 'I am a Teapot'. He felt compelled to tell the truth about his loyalty to the Dark Lord, but the muggle rhyme, simply wouldn't leave him alone. And then, he had a bright idea. Pointing his wand to his throat, he said, "Sonorus!" He then strutted in front of the Head Table and called everyone's attention in such a pleasant voice, that many people choked. Without waiting for the reaction, he rolled up his left sleeve and started.

 ** _I am a greasy bastard_**

 ** _With a sneering mouth_**

 ** _I am a biased prat and_**

 ** _I am a murderous lout_**

 ** _I am a loyal Death Eater_**

 ** _There is no doubt_**

 ** _This is my Dark Mark_**

 ** _I am the Dark Lord's tout_**

He had complemented his voice with a wonderful dance performance. The newbloods had all promptly burst into laughter. They had recognised the nursery rhyme. Dumbledore had been shell-shocked. Remus had gone red. That was probably both due to anger and laughter. This prank had Sirius stamped all over it, just as the tree prank on the Longbottom boy had been pure James. None of the other Professors had any compunction whatsoever, however, and had joined in the laughter. Snape had spent the whole day in a completely ecstatic mood, and it did not wither even when cauldrons were melted in his classroom.

The twins had accepted Neville into the pranking hall of fame by the end of the day.

* * *

Harry surmised that the boggart and Malfoy taunting him about Sirius were inextricably linked through time. The blonde ferret had been entirely too quiet for the entire time, but even after his father's incarceration and fall from grace, he could not really keep quiet. Moony had been readying the boggart and was slightly late. Malfoy had taken the opportunity to taunt him about Sirius as the Slytherins passed by while the 'puffs and the Gryffindors waited outside the defence classroom.

"Hey! Potty! What do you think you are going to do about Black?"

"I will let the law take its course, 'bad faith'," Harry replied dully. He really wasn't in the mood. Hermione had still not been speaking to him after the prank, because she knew that **_he_** had pranked Snape. To add fuel to the fire, he had tried to convince her that she should not let Ron copy her homework. There had been a growing feeling that they were drifting further and further apart.

"But don't **_you_** want to do anything?" the git jeered.

"Why would I want to do anything?" _'Especially now that I am pretty sure he is fooling around at Potter properties with Amelia – ewww bad pictures!'_

Ron decided to get angry on Harry's behalf and Harry let him. He wasn't even worried about what the half-brained idiot said anymore. The redhead and the blonde ferret squabbled till Moony summoned them. As they were passing, Harry waved to Nearly Headless Nick. He looked morose. Probably another rejection had been garnered from the Headless Hunt. It however, gave him an excellent idea. Helena's ghost had told him the story about the Diadem. He could use the Bloody Baron, the Grey Lady and Nick for the plan, and help them all in the process.

Remus' announcement about the practical lesson cheered everyone. It was interesting to see how everyone knew their fears. That was Harry's objective. He wanted to know his fear. In hindsight, it wouldn't be a very wise idea. This time there was none of the 'Neville fears Snape' drama, chiefly, because Neville didn't fear Snape – he **_hated_** Snape with every fibre of his being.

Harry, Hermione and Susan and Ernie volunteered the answers for the explanation of a boggart. It moved fast from there. As a matter of demonstration, Moony himself went first. Harry knew there was something wrong, when it was not the moon that the boggart turned into. It turned into disembodied voices. Clearly, even Remus wasn't expecting that. The voices, which seemed very close to Sirius', James', Lily's and even Harry's, were all telling him that he had failed them all – that they were ashamed of him. He could only stutter out 'Riddikulus!' as the boggart changed and he was told that it was all a prank. It was now a Mummy for Parvati, and she banished it by turning it into a tissue paper roll. Seamus once again banished the banshee by making her lose her voice.

Susan stepped up. She was afraid of herself. Boggart-Susan berated her for not being everything she wanted to be. Hers was the only boggart banishing that wasn't funny. It turned into her mother who told her to be proud of herself. Susan was followed by Ernie, who strangely for a Hufflepuff, was afraid of badgers. The rabid badger simply turned into a stuffed toy.

Hermione came next. Harry felt extremely guilty for what he saw. It was the scar-stabbing. Her fear was seeing Harry stab the scar. Only in her fear, he died. She was unable to respond, only moaning out a strangled 'NO!' Moony had to come to her rescue. The small knife turned into a crayon, and the crayon melted, splattering Harry's face with colour which dripped off his face. Harry was reasonably sure, that Moony had found it very amusing. Hermione sank her face in her palms and tried to become inconspicuous. Justin went next, and his fear was, quite predictably, the basilisk. Harry heard sharp intakes of breath as he saw it. Justin turned it into an origami snake. It went on and on, till it was Neville's turn. _His_ fear was a dementor now. And Neville seemed to have some imagination. A stick came up, and used the rags as a mop.

Harry followed Neville. At first, there was nothing but a fine mist, as Harry had kept up his shields. The boggart though, was a creature that couldn't be affected by Occlumency. It slowly transformed into a figure of Hermione, screaming while being tortured by Bellatrix. It flitted and oscillated between the image of the Carrows torturing Neville and Luna. Harry went pale.

"Rid-dee-cue"

Snap!

It was now Sirius falling through the Veil of Death with Harry and Remus shouting after him, and Antonin Dolohov killing Hermione, instead of injuring her.

"Rid- Riddikulus!"

Snap!

Pettigrew cut his hand over the cauldron, and dropped in Harry's blood. Voldemort stepped out of the cauldron.

Quite a few people shrieked and fainted.

Snap!

It was now Fred, Justin, Colin, Lavender, Moony and Tonks, Mad-Eye and Hedwig lying dead, side by side. Harry tried again.

"Riddikulus!" said Harry weakly.

This time, it was a child – a child who looked like Moony, but had a slightly heart-shaped face, and hair which cycled through many colours. "Hawwy!" squealed the boy. And then his face turned accusatory, and sorrowful, and he started speaking in a babyish babble.

"You plough mist (promised), Hawwy. You plough mist my Dada and Mummy that you'd pwotett (protect) me! You plough mist, that you and Aunty Hermi wood always pwotett me! You left us! You left us jus' as Unca Pafoo left you! You left us all fall-level, jus' like Unca Pafoo! You lied to my mummy and daddy, Aunty Hermi, Unca Nev and Unca Ron!" He then pointed to another body, that of Hermione, but gruesomely mutilated, lying beside Tonks. "Look, Aunty Hermi left me because you couldn't pwotett hull (her)! I hate you Hawwy! You well a bad boy! You lied!"

Harry could not get the incantation out of his mouth. All he could say was, "Teddy, I..." And then all of a sudden he fought back the intrusion by that creature on his greatest fear. "YOU ARE NOT TEDDY! YOU ARE A BOGGART – JUST A FILTHY BOGGART! TEDDY WOULD BE LIKE HIS FATHER, LIKE MOONY! YOU AREN'T MY GODS-" A beam of pure, raw magic left Harry's wand and destroyed the wall, cupboard and the boggart too, to thin wisps along with a primal roar that escaped his mouth. Harry turned around, his face harsh, to see the faces of his classmates, astounded to see that that his fears were so many of those people that they knew, lying dead, including the Professor, and Hermione. Moony's face was shocked beyond recognition. Hermione too held fear, and something else that he could not discern. She was silently mouthing, "Aunty Hermi".

"May I be excused, Professor? I think that this has affected me too badly." Harry's tone was curt. Without waiting for Moony's reply, he stormed off. The lesson couldn't be continued, of course, without a boggart. Moony distractedly dismissed the class, the occupants of which decided that after that scary burst of magic by Harry, the incident would never be referenced again.

* * *

Hermione and Moony found Harry at the top of the Astronomy tower. What Moony had never told him was that he had made another map of Hogwarts when he had been made a Prefect. The two were currently using it to trace Harry. It was late in the evening, on the second Friday of September. They had seen Harry's spot on top of the Astronomy Tower. When they reached to the top, they could hear angry growls, but couldn't see Harry.

Remus now no longer had to hide who he was. "I know you are disillusioned, Prongslet, though I don't know how you learnt that."

"Go away, Moony! I don't want to talk to you!"

"But Hermione and I want to, cub. Come here, now. I know about Padfoot, pup." Hermione jerked her head towards Moony at that. He shook his head.

"No. You are still that old Snape-Controlled Whiskered Wanker's puppet. You will give Padfoot to the dementors!"

"Why would I do that pup?"

"I know you would. You listened to that old meddlesome bastard and let Padfoot rot in Azkaban. And you left me alone with the Dursleys and let them beat me up all the time! Go away!"

Remus sighed and simply followed Harry's voice. He divested Harry of the disillusionment and hugged him. Hermione decided that Harry was too down in the dumps, and simply perched on his lap and cuddled into him. She simply didn't have the heart to chastise him for his language. Harry broke into sulphurous growling anew. Most people would have cried, probably. That was beaten out of the temporally displaced Potter at an early age. "I am sorry. I am sorry Moony, Hermione." The two could feel him shake as he did the closest thing as he could to screaming his heart out when he transformed and let out a low, prolonged and mournful howl. Moony just held his cub - currently the pup.

"Put up privacy charms, Moony." Remus duly complied, as Harry transformed from canine to human.

"Tell me what it was, Harry. Tell me everything."

"I can't Moony. I could only tell one person. So I broke Sirius out and told him, Moony. I will free him now. He adopted me, Moony. Sirius adopted me! I caught Peter, Remus. I so wanted to kill that little bastard and to think he was hiding all this time as Ron's rat!"

"You are not making sense, Harry." Hermione lifted his face and held him again. "What are you talking about?"

"Hermione – may I call you that?" The girl nodded. "I think what Harry is trying to tell us, is that he broke Sirius Black out of prison, and he has caught the real murderer, Death Eater and spy, Peter Pettigrew. Pettigrew was a rat animagus-"

"And he hid as Scabbers!" completed Hermione, quickly connecting the dots. Remus nodded. "But that is not possible!"

"Why ever is it not?" Remus asked mildly, as if they were discussing a particularly vexing defence problem.

"When I checked the animagus registry, I never saw the names of Peter Pettigrew and Sirius Black!"

Harry laughed mirthlessly. "Hermione, that register is incomplete. Several people choose to ask for a special dispensation and secrecy over the matter. Aurors never have their forms registered, except for in their oath. Tell me, does it have the name Hadrian James Potter as a Grim, or James Charlus Potter as a Stag – Prongs – or Sirius Orion Black as a Grim – Padfoot, the very same as the one you saw over at my house – or Peter Thomas Pettigrew as a rat – Wormtail – or as we knew him, Scabbers?"

"No. But I thought that-"

"Dad and Sirius were Aurors, 'Mione. They were covered by the oath. It was part of the training."

"Oh." Hermione was exceedingly put out by the fact that records and books were incomplete or incorrect. Moony saw fit to move on from there.

"Is Sirius well?"

"He is, Moony. I can't tell you the name of the Healer. But you know what I did to Astoria on the train? I used that, and linked Sirius' mind to mine, Moony. I broke him out."

"How?" asked Remus, before realisation dawned. "You got emancipated."

"Yes. I sent him several Happiness Hampers while I was here. It was enough to magically exhaust me then, and enough for Sirius to manage Occlumency and to get through two weeks, alive, as Padfoot."

"How did I not know?" Hermione asked with gritted teeth.

"Dobby took care of me." No one had any answer to that. They remained silent for a while.

"Do you want to talk, Harry?" Hermione asked.

"I want to, Hermione, I really do. But I can't. I truly don't know how to without seeming insane. All that I can tell you is that the day I fought the basilisk, I woke up with memories of what might have been one future, or something like that. I have no academic memories, because I have to learn normally, so I am not cheating there. As for cheating Voldemort, I am pretty sure you won't mind that. That was another thing that that Harry, or me bollixed up totally."

"So you needed to see what your mistakes would lead to, to change your study habits, did you?"

"You have every right to be smug about it, but yes."

"What do you know and what can you say, Harry?" Moony asked, trying to prise out as much as he could from him.

"Truthfully, I know exactly what has happened. But I am forbidden from speaking about it, and not by Sirius. If I tell you, I have to tell you truths mingled with lies. Just the last memory of that future, is what I will tell you. It is a partial lie, but since I simply cannot tell you the **_entire_** truth, I need you to please forgive me for that. Again, the way that I was forbidden to tell you the exact truth did not forbid Sirius from doing so if we trusted the one we told enough, nor does it forbid me from telling anyone something false; I am stretching it a bit. Also anything I lie about will be embellishment or reconstruction of the situation, but not of any facts. So well, here goes. That Harry told you, your wife, Hermione and Neville, that everything would be okay. And then he went to sacrifice himself to get rid of the Horcrux in his scar, because _Snape_ said that Dumbledore said so, Moony. He let Voldemort kill him." His voice was so monotonous and expressionless, that it did not permeate into either Hermione's or Moony's head immediately. When it did, they tried to strangle him in a hug again.

"Promise me-" started Moony.

"Us-" interrupted Hermione.

"Yes. Promise us that you will never do anything so foolish ever again."

"I don't need to, you mangy old furry arsed wolf! I got rid of it already. That was what this beautiful girl's boggart was all about." Moony spluttered, and Hermione blushed.

"You know? About the wolf, I mean?"

"Of course I do. Well, you weren't the reason why I became an animagus, but nonetheless, you will have the son of one of your pack-mates back. I am joining you on full moons."

"You aren't."

"I am not asking you for permission, you git. I am. And that is final. I am joining you, either as Pup or as Firewing. You choose."

"You bloody prat! You are Firewing?"

"Of course I am. But I am not sure I'll be able to see you then. You will be too small. Get it? You will be _small_!"

"I guess you have been living with that man-child..."

"Excuse me, sir," Hermione asked shyly, "Are you a werewolf?"

"Yes. Ms. Granger," Moony started in exasperated bitterness. "I was bitten when I was four. I can understand if you feel disgusted or afraid of-" He was cut off by Harry's bark-like snort of laughter.

"Shut up you furry fool! She campaigned for werewolf rights, or at least, that Hermione did and wanted to find non-magical remedies for your furry little problem. She wanted to become a Healer and specialise in non-magical medicine too. And you know that boy, Teddy?" The two nodded. "You made Hermione and me his godparents."

"I had a son?" Moony asked, simultaneously flabbergasted and elated. "I married? Was he like me?"

"He wasn't, if you are asking about the lycanthropy. Yes you married. No I can't tell you whom you married. But you named us godparents. That was why you were Aunty Hermi. Mind you, he couldn't have spoken – he was only two months old. And even then, Neville and I'd promised that we would be godparents of each others' sprogs. Neither of us was a prankster in that – whatever you'd call it. I am filling up that chink in my armour now."

"And I can solemnly swear that you are up to no good!" Moony grinned. Harry only grinned weakly. It felt cathartic to unload a bit. He seriously missed Sirius right now. Moony was probably thinking along the same lines, for he asked, "Does anyone else know about Sirius?"

"Amelia does and so do the Garnarukran. We went to Gringotts after Sirius was a bit better. He is Lord Black now, and I am Heir Black. I chose to be a temporary custodian. The Nation knows about Wormtail too. As for Amelia, well, they have been fooling around since September 1st. So much so, that the mutt didn't even reply to my letter about the song prank."

"Blimey!" muttered Moony. "That was fast." Then as an afterthought he turned to Harry. "That was you!"

"Of course it was. I will drive Snivellus mad with the pranks, and then manage things well enough to kill him. Knowing what I know now, that bastard doesn't deserve to live. He gave Voldemort the reason to go after Mum and Dad and Aunt Alice and Uncle Frank," Harry spat bitterly. "And then to shore up things with the Voldemort-Enslaved Whiskered Wanker Puppet Master, he crawled up to old Silver-Beard and pleaded that he loved Mum and wanted her safe. That utter bastard didn't recognise that Mum wouldn't choose to be saved if I was in danger. She was a mother! And Snivellus apparently pleaded with Voldemort to not kill her."

"Snivellus sent Voldemort after you all?" asked Remus in a strangled voice, hatred tinging it slightly.

"But that isn't all. He himself murdered my Grandparents and Neville's Grandfather. As for another thing, Moony, you remember your sixth year? When you were angry with Sirius for endangering Snape, and you, by extension? Well, the bastard had it all planned. He knew that you had the furry problem, and wanted you executed. He hated Sirius enough. Snape had planned it in such a way that Dad and Sirius would be censured and expelled, and you would be executed. I can only guess that it was Wormtail who told Snivellus about you. It was in December 1976, wasn't it? We believe Wormtail was turning or had already turned to Moldyshorts around then. Sirius didn't know.

"We only realised all this when we used a Black Family spell to share our memories, including those other ones, and helped each other with Occlumency. In the other timeline, Snape had destroyed the chance to arrest Pettigrew by very conveniently forgetting your Potion. He simply wanted you executed again, and this time, he could get me executed as a werewolf. I didn't want you at his mercy. That's why I started the James and Lily Potter Memorial Institute for Research on Lycanthropy." Harry finished his rant and sighed, "I don't hate Voldemort as much as I hate Snape, Moony."

The wolf inside Remus was howling as he heard this. He wanted revenge. He would immolate the bastard with the grease from Snape's own head! He...

"Calm down, Moony!" Remus jerked his head to Harry. "Your eyes – they were becoming amber."

Remus sat in silence, as the sky darkened a little more. Harry had told him so many things, and they all made sense. Snivellus had sown the seeds of mistrust between Sirius and him. Yet, apart from the boggart, Harry seemed very much in control. He needed to work with Harry, as he should have all along. He should have ignored Dumbledore's orders. They meant nothing compared to his cub, to his pack. He-

"Moony, please let it go. Neither of us can change the past. What matters is whether we can change the bad things we fear might happen. We are pack, Moony. We always were, and always will be."

Remus sighed again. He was doing that a lot. "What do you need from me cub?"

"Right now I don't need anything. Amelia and I are going to free Sirius first and foremost. I need you to head people off, if you can. Confrontations will be inevitable. I want them to be minor glitches, things that won't derail my plan."

"And the plan is working well?"

"It is; too well in fact. That Harry made enemies of the Nation – I am Lord Griffinheart, with a place by the Lord Director's side as his eyes and ears in the non-magical world."

"Merlin's scraggly beard!" exclaimed Moony. "And what about the bits and pieces?" he asked.

"Well, I know where four more of the Dark Idiot's bits and pieces are. Only, he certainly intended to have more than seven bits of his soul."

"Bugger me sideways!" murmured Remus.

"Yuck! Bad images, Moony!" protested Harry.

"Shut your trap!" Moony replied. "What else have you planned?"

"Keep reading the Prophet, old man-"

"Don't call me old! I am not old!"

"Will 'ancient' do? How about 'prehistoric' – you don't mind that?" Harry asked cheekily.

Hermione coughed delicately to bring the two Marauders across two generations back to the matter. "You were telling us about the plan."

"A massive prank has been arranged for the entire British Magical community," Harry replied with a hint of a grin.

"Do I want to know?" asked Remus.

"You have already guessed it Moony. You are too bad an actor for a Marauder. You weren't sleeping on the train."

"Hmpf!" the Lycanthrope huffed. "Be that as it may, be careful."

"I know, Unca Mooey. What matters, is that you two remain safe. How safe is your mind?"

"I am werewolf, kid. An impenetrable mind is a part of the deal."

"But Hermione isn't. That is a big reason why I can't tell her secrets. Look 'Mione, I mean no offence, but Snape and Dumbledore are Legillimancers – they can, in the vaguest of terms, read minds. I want you to never, ever look them in the eye. If you need to, keep reciting something like Arithmancy formulae or something mentally. I am an accomplished Occlumens, but I am absolutely piss poor at Legillimency," he told her, ignoring her scolding about his language. "Neville can, but he can't teach you. There are two chief reasons for that. For one, he is a natural at Mind Arts. So he did not exactly need to learn, though he has agreed to learn to help him become better at it. The second is that you need to completely trust the one whom you let into your mind." Then his face changed as he remembered Snape's lessons. "That Harry was initiated into Occlumency by Snape, who just said "clear your mind" and then proceeded to rip his mind into shreds. Suffice it to say that it was a tremendous failure."

That set Moony off. "Why is that stinking piece of shite even in school?"

"I told you. Mr. Too-Many-Names trusts him. Right now, do not pick on him. That right is mine. But he is Sirius' to put down."

"You know what to do."

"I do, of course. Let's just say that all the people in the House of Prince, who so conveniently include Snivellus and one Albert Marcus Prince and his son Sebastian Constantine Prince, are both Death Eaters. And all Death Eaters have their days numbered."

"Blood feud?" asked Remus.

"Blood Feud," agreed Harry, "And Judgement on a vassal for treachery. But that action is pending some serious curse breaking."

"Halt there kid. What did you mean by curse-breaking?"

"Dumbledore was apparently cursed by Voldemort by a Black-family curse..."

"...courtesy Bella, I suppose?"

"Probably. Amelia has used it once, but the way she said it, it seemed to be a one time thing."

"Snape is your Vassal?"

"No. Dumbledore is."

"But why him? Didn't you just say that he was cursed?" protested Hermione.

"And who placed it, and what does it do?" asked Remus as he tried to get his head around the jumps of tracks while also trying to gather more information.

"Voldemort cast it. I told you that before. It bring out the bad side of the person, simplistically. Here it means the more manipulative side of Dumbledore."

"So Dumbledore may not be in control of himself. Doesn't that mean he isn't culpable of his actions, and may have, had he been himself, taken different actions."

There was Moony, playing the Devil's advocate. He had also brought up a matter that made the already murky waters murkier still. Every court of law throughout history had faced that problem - the insanity plea. The Imperius Defence was of the same category. These cases often had no right answers. Either a person with dubious guilt was punished, or the victim got no justice. Thankfully, he wasn't doubting Snape's criminality.

"Innocent and easily fooled as always, you are, Moony," Harry said resignedly. "How did a curse cast by a disembodied person survive? Dumbledore is a human, not an enchanted object, you know. Do you really think Dumbledore never knew about an animagus being in this school for eight years? Couldn't Dumbledore have given Sirius a trial? Couldn't Dumbledore have called a meeting of the entire Order, sworn them to secrecy and checked their left forearms, or asked for magical oaths that they weren't Death Eaters? Didn't a powerful Legillimens like Dumbledore see through Peter?"

Remus frowned as he found himself unable to answer those questions.

"Moving on, couldn't Dumbledore have asked a Healer who specialised in healing possessions and knew how to combat Necromancy to remove that thing in my scar? He left me like yesterday's trash in Privet Prison, where I was beaten, lashed, verbally, physically and mentally abused in every possible way to beat magic out of me, while he dumped Sirius with the dementors to suck his life and soul out of him."

"They hurt you," Remus growled harshly, dismissing everything else after hearing the line about the treatment of the cub. It was easier to ignore Sirius' plight temporarily. He was a grown man. "I WILL KILL THEM!" he howled, even as Hermione bristled heavily in anger and shook with fury. It was bad enough that some innocent man (whom she didn't even know) had been languishing in prison without trial. That the said person was Harry's last remaining family – probably only family – drove her mad. But it was nothing compared to the anger that she felt for Voldemort, Snape, Dumbledore and those... _things_ that Harry had once had to call family. The slight fear in his voice when he had spoken about them in passing was now explained. All she said when Professor Lupin said he would kill them was: "GET IN LINE, PROFESSOR! I AM FIRST!"

"And what will that achieve? The one thing that this thing that has happened to me has helped with is coming to terms with everything that I have ever experienced, and I am including those memories or visions, because they are in first person. No. I know how revenge is taken, Remus, 'Mione. I am twelve, yes, but those memories forced me to grow up in some ways. I was an idiot, all these years. I allowed myself to be conditioned to be led by my nose. Physically, I am twelve, maybe even mentally in some ways. And yet, I have experienced all the pain and loss of that seventeen year old Harry."

"Is that why you have become a little scary, Harry?"

"Hermione, I truly never meant to scare you. If what happened to that Harry is true, and as of yet I have had no evidence to the contrary, I don't ever want you, Sirius, Moony, Granny Min, Neville, Luna or anyone else I consider family to be hurt. If that means I have to be dark, I will be dark. If that means I've to be a politically manipulative murderous villain, I'll be. You all mean too much to me to ever lose you, any of you. As for revenge, let's just say that a Garnarukro can hurt anyone who hurts a child of the Nation worse than you on full moons Remus. And I paid them for that."

"Damn," said Moony, as he gulped. Nobody ever wanted to be the receptacle of Goblin anger. The anger of a Garnarukro paid to be angry was even worse.

"Well, so let's come back to Dumbledore after being controlled. Remember, there is no means to decide which actions were really his. He is just as Machiavellian. Some of them might have been Snape's promptings. Dumbledore had justified binding my magic and wanting me killed so that the passive possession could be destroyed. Who gave him the right to decide that? He knew since that Halloween night, that I had that thing in my scar. Why not start the search for Horcruxes then? You know, when I went over to the Weasleys earlier in the summer, we discussed Dumbledore's true leanings. See it this way. Snape, Igor Karkaroff, Augustus Rookwood, the Lestranges, all got trials. All are marked Death Eaters. Sirius did not. Cretins like Lucius Malfoy, Walden McNair, Yaxley, Nott and others all went scot free. How was that possible? Are you trying to tell me that Albus fucking Dumbledore, the Supreme Mugwump, Chief Warlock and Headmaster of a highly celebrated school had no power to overrule idiots like Fudge? And did Dumbledore not have the responsibility of ensuring that Sirius got a trial at least? In fact Bellatrix is a big case in point. She got a trial in spite of being of Black descent, and that is something I have heard bandied about against Sirius ever since his escape – the Blacks are a dark family. Well then, I am dark too! My grandmother was a Black. **_Hermione's_** grandmother is a Black! How is it that only Sirius, who was openly against Voldemort, was jailed without a trial?"

The picture was starting to get clearer for both Hermione and Remus. Harry surged on. "The way I see it, it was a political ploy which played into Dumbledore's hands. Sirius would have been my primary guardian after Dad and Mum. It would be either him or Aunt Alice. We both know how independent and stubborn Sirius is. Nobody could've bent him to their wills easily. Add to that the fact that he is the Lord Black, a tremendous political power. He would've done something about the scar. That meant I wouldn't be Dumbledore's weapon. What does he do then? He put me in with my abusive relatives. What would that have led to? Either I would've been the next Voldemort, with enough reason to hate non-magical people, or I would've been like that Harry. Then there was Tom Riddle. Dumbledore kept him in his poor conditions at the orphanage, in spite of the clever and really hardworking twelve year old pleading with the authorities to keep him at Hogwarts, or foster him with a magical family. Tom Riddle went dark due to his circumstances. Was it Dumbledore's idea to be proven innocent of that taint by experimenting with me as the unloved, hated, guinea pig? Then there is the Death Eater faction in the Wizengamot. The Blacks are an Ancient and Most Noble family, and as such hold a higher status than most of the rest. Most purebloods and specifically, many Death Eaters are related to the Blacks. By disowning those who joined Voldemort, or annulling marriages of Black daughters, Sirius would have effectively cut the legs out from under the free Death Eaters. So incarcerating Sirius was in the mutual interest of both parties and I simply cannot discard the idea that Dumbledore put Sirius into Azkaban on purpose."

"You mean that Dumbledore was helping the Death Eaters?" asked Hermione, aghast.

"It doesn't make sense, Harry. This seems the job of a Death Eater masquerading as Albus..." he trailed off in thought.

"I am not saying that, no. What I **am** saying though, is that it is possible that the Death Eaters and Dumbledore each wanted Sirius out of the picture for their own reasons. It is also possible that Snape got Sirius put into Azkaban – and there is no need to point out the reason. They may not have explicitly conspired, but Dumbledore did nothing to stop them either. But I do think that he did something to the Longbottoms. Why did Caradoc Dearborn die just after he was made the Secret-Keeper? You know that if the Secret Keeper dies, the people to whom the secret is revealed become the Secret Keepers. That would mean Dumbledore, Madam Longbottom and Peter. Peter could've easily betrayed the Longbottoms too. Do you know why Voldemort wanted to attack our families?"

"No. Not really," replied Moony, keener on listening to the rest of what Harry had to say.

"Well, I won't tell you right now, chiefly because of Hermione. I don't want her mind plundered. Yes, so Peter could've betrayed the Longbottoms. We will keep aside the point regarding Dumbledore not knowing about the spy in the Order. Once Caradoc was killed why wasn't their Fidelius recast? There is something else to it – Peter could've betrayed Caradoc to the Death Eaters himself. I know that all this sounds like a crazy conspiracy theory, but still, it is something to go by.

"And then there is the fact that he wanted you to be the ambassador with the werewolves. Seriously Remus, have you never thought about the fact that werewolf packs can only be controlled by establishing yourself as the Alpha? There may be some werewolves like you, but how many really got the benefit of education? And even that I can see as a way to ingratiate you to him. Tell me, Moony, how many werewolves, younger than you went to Hogwarts? Hell, how many werewolves apart from Remus John Lupin attended Hogwarts since 1971, when Voldemort first started showing off his power? Let me tell you. The answer is zero. You, Moony, were groomed as a spy. You were groomed to be loyal to Dumbledore, to not be truly accepted by the packs and to be distrusted a little even by your friends. Your forays into werewolf territory were so secret that you couldn't even tell my dad? Dad was one of those hidden, so no one thought of him as the traitor. Snivellus had already created a rift between you and Padfoot, Dumbledore widened it. He has used you, Moony. He has used you all your life. And that was purely Dumbledore."

It was very difficult for Remus. Harry had laid bare everything, and the more he heard, the more it incriminated the man he had trusted the most. He felt lost. Every belief, everything that he had ever thought true, everything that he ever held dear was now to be questioned.

"It is not all lost, Moony," Harry tried to placate him, laying a hand on his shoulder. "We are in control of the situation to a fairly large extent. We know what we are doing."

"You have it under control?" Remus' eyes betrayed the hurt he was feeling, and Harry felt for him deeply. He knew that Remus would soon open another bottle of Firewhisky.

"I do. Or rather, Padfoot and I do. And you are not going to drink. I want you strong. I need you, Moony. Padfoot needs you too."

"If there is something you need me to do, you will ask?"

"Yes. You have too much to process. But think about it. Anyway, that is all I can tell you."

Remus remained silent for a long while. It was a contemplative silence. Yes. Dumbledore had manipulated him. But somehow, he truly couldn't lay all the problems at his door. He just couldn't help but think that it was all a sequence: James and Lily dead, Peter the traitor, Sirius in Azkaban for a crime he didn't, _couldn't_ , commit, Harry lopped off to a woman whose hatred of all things magic was matched by Voldemort' and the Death Eaters' hatred of all things muggle, and he himself languished in enforced exile and solitude. It was as if someone had a vendetta against the Marauders. And he could think of one person petty enough, and cruel and vindictive enough to do that. This person, a filthy murderer, was also the one enjoying a very unique position.

Severus Snape was sitting pretty as 'just a teacher' in the safest of environs available to him. He had Dumbledore's ear, certainly. He was not trusted by his fellow Death Eaters, yet when Voldemort returned, the fiend would find that his support base was truly well-established, because the one man who could have imposed himself on the Wizengamot and gotten them all eliminated was somehow still his slave. Severus was, indeed, the one man who stood to gain most from Voldemort's return.

Of course, it was all predicated on Snape finding out the curse and casting it, or there being a control element to the curse with Snape inserted as the handler. In any case, it was rather obvious when one looked at the situation.

Remus did divulge this theory. "And I know that you have this predilection towards making Dumbledore the very reason of all evil. Don't fall into that trap. Neither you nor Sirius are objective enough about him. Sirius will be, at the moment, unable to see beyond his twelve years in prison. The act is that before the war, I have seen Dumbledore fight, bleed and grieve with us. As much as it would satisfy your righteous indignation by ranting against perceived authority, knowing him as I do, it makes it a waste of time. Dumbledore, as much as he may have used me, is not a Death Eater, nor is he Voldemort. At the moment, you have to give him the benefit of doubt."

Harry looked increasingly uncomfortable with that pronouncement. It was so easy to just think the worst of Dumbledore. Moony was diverting the anger towards Snivellus, someone he hated just as much, but it had been a slow build-up of the distrust he felt against the Headmaster - the knowledge of the curse notwithstanding. He had once to hi friends how funny it would be to have the castles of the pureblood support given to Voldemort crumble because of them having false bases. It was what he was feeling. It was so easy, though probably incorrect, to fall into the Dumbledore-knows-can-do-and-did-everything trap. Of course, being entirely human, and therefore flawed, he couldn't admit to even himself yet that he could be wrong. So he just gave an irritate nod and remained silent or a while - long enough for it to be polite so that he could change the subject.

"Actually there is something that I need you two and Neville to help me with. It is really exciting, and gives me powers of magical judgement. It relates to Firewing and one other form. I need your help perfecting that. I need to learn how to fly."

"You can fly," replied Hermione uncertainly.

"I can **_use_** a broom to fly. **_I_** can't fly yet. You just see. That's all I need from you right now Moony. Oh, and keep an eye on Luna Lovegood. She is absolutely crucial for us, not just because of her Sight, but because she is my friend, godsister and in general an extremely likeable person. She is bullied. Trust me on this. I think I have given you all the information I can think of and you need right now."

"Then I'll grill you no more, for now."

"But I will, Moon- I am sorry Professor," interjected Hermione and blushed. She had been quiet for long.

Remus laughed freely at that. "You can call me that in private, Hermione. If I trusted you enough to name you my son's godmother, then I can certainly be your friend now too."

Hermione blushed further, and ducked her head into Harry's shoulder. She hadn't left her position on Harry's lap.

"Harry, there is something I have been meaning to ask you. What happened to our friends? When did that you and Neville become friends? What happened to Ron?"

"I can't exactly answer your questions, Hermione, because I can't tell you yet, and it's useless to tell lies. Neville and I just grew up to be friends. He was the first who found out about the Dursleys' treatment of me. He forced me to talk. Over the next few years, it became impossible to hide anything from him or you. It wasn't until much later that we came to know that we were godbrothers. That Neville never attained the self-confidence as a powerful and wise wizard that our Neville has. Well I won't say our Neville is wise – he is just as much a git as I can be, but he is more like Moony; he isn't a bloody child all the time. I am, though, and I am sure that spending time with my mutt of godfather has only made matters worse," he added thoughtfully, causing Hermione to snort. "Did you know that he has managed to become a bear animagus, just like his Patronus, and is working on two more forms? That is how confident Neville is now. When I saw Neville again after that memory thingy, I decided to repay his kindness, though, strictly speaking, I can't say it was really kindness on my part. It was something I should have done. Even now, he is the only one among my friends who knows the full extent of my life before Hogwarts. As for Ron, I am very unsure. Sirius and I analysed his actions, especially during the last two years of that time, and, well, let us just say that he was our Wormtail."

"He betrayed us?" asked Hermione, aghast.

"I can't truly say. But there were so many things that he did that don't simply add up. That is why I am a bit wary of him. One thing that I did learn is that Ron has always been jealous of those with money, brains, or for that matter, anything better than him. It was a primary objective of mine to head him off when I distributed the compensation payouts. Ron will have to prove himself. Ron has not been particularly good to either of Neville, you or Luna, and frankly, you are all more important to me than he'll ever be, because that Harry and Neville had overcome their initial state of being passing acquaintances, and became as close as brothers, just like the Marauders were. That Harry trusted Neville above all his other friends. There was always the lingering sense of guilt that that Harry felt because he wasn't there for that Neville before. In part I didn't want that to happen, and in part, I found out that he was family. Even if that wasn't the case, I should have made friends with Neville much before I did, even now. As for Ron, I have come so close to cutting off ties with him, particularly given the fact that I was manipulated into being his friend..."

"What do you mean?"

"Have I ever told you how Ron and I became ' ** _friends_** '?" The stress and quotation marks were evident from his tone.

"No?"

Harry told them both how Hagrid hadn't told him about the platform 9 ¾, how Molly had shepherded him across, shouting about forgetting the platform number in spite of several years of going to the platform at least twice a year, how Ron had entered the carriage and expected immediate friendship, which had put Harry on guard. "But I can't simply do anything on the basis of something I can't really explain or truly understand, can I? And that would seem particularly odd, given the fact that I have nothing to substantiate my theory, nor do I have anything to pin onto him. This Ron has done nothing. That doesn't mean I trust him. In fact, I have already paid the Weasley family for all the expenses incurred by their rescue of me from the Dursleys, reimbursed them for the whole Ford Anglia fiasco, and paid Mrs. Weasley for her Christmas presents of jumpers and sweets ten percent more than the cost price of top-of-the-line sweaters from Madam Malkins' and the best of Honeydukes'."

It was overkill. After all, it was highly possible that it was really just because the matronly woman felt for the orphan. That too felt like pity, but it mightn't have necessarily been out of some other intentions. Harry would never tell her that he had only done that in the new timeline, and that it stemmed from his paranoia.

"The truth is that I am Ron's friend only because you seem to like him, or have a crush on him or something. I tolerate him for you. I would have never forgiven somebody who bullied me to within an inch of my life, frankly. But it is your decision. "

Hermione was aghast. Harry thought she liked Ron? This proved that whatever else happened, in some matters, Harry would remain an idiot. "How could you even think that? Why would I like _Ron?_ " she asked, fairly spitting the word in disgust. "I forgave him only because he was your friend! Whatever gave you the idea that I would like _him_?"

"You are always nagging him, and helping him with his work, and everyone says that you fight like old married couples. So I thought that you like him. You also get angry when I scare him, or when I prank him, and when I tell you to not help him with his work. So I assumed that you liked him," Harry replied innocently. He had to be sure before he started sending subtle signals Hermione's way. He had been improving his acting skills.

Hermione rubbed her temples in irritation. "Curse those Dursleys," she grumbled mentally. "Harry, whatever you may have heard about old married couples and such is a load of old tosh. Tell me, have you ever seen Mr. and Mrs. Weasley fight like they seriously only wanted to stop themselves from killing the other? Do my parents, who I know are very much in love fight the way Ron and I do? They don't. Whatever you think about Ron and me is a Hagrid sized misconception." Harry grinned at that. Hermione had something to ask however. "How did you manage to behave like a friend with Ron if you don't even like him?"

"'Mione, I am the son, godson and nephew respectively of three Marauders. I was going to be put in Slytherin, because Rudolph thought it appropriate. Hell, I am Lord Slytherin. I happen to have excellent acting skills. I spent two years getting to know as much as I could, and trying to keep you safe. I needed to be sure that Ron wouldn't hurt you again. What better way to achieve that than to distract him by being his friend, by being the bait? I was going to wait for every chance for him to trip up, and show you his true colours. A Slytherin is an opportunist. We wait and watch, and test the waters and check that the coast is clear before making our move to prevent being incriminated. If I was openly against Ron at a time when I thought that you liked him, you'd have never trusted me if I exposed him. Do you think I really cared what happened to the foolish little Weasley girl? It was only because stopping – or to use others' words, saving her – would lead me to that bloody basilisk that hurt you. That I managed to garner praise, respect and awe from others was just an additional benefit. I really wouldn't have cared about stopping the Weasley girl if it wasn't necessary, either."

"Then why are you in good relations with the lot of them?"

"The way I see it, they are just useful people; but they have been good to me and I can't demean them and the way they have treated me till now. If they are really like what they ended up being for that Harry, I might go so far as to concede that the twins are my friends, to an extent, probably, but I won't really care about the others. That Harry's memories showed me exactly who I could call my friends. And trust me. Ronald Weasley wasn't necessarily one of them, particularly if things are to go as they did for that Harry. I have made lots and lots of changes, and I am willing to give him a chance, but I'll always be wary. I mean whatever else may happen, at least with me, Ron has behaved as a friend. I can't really just cast him off. It confuses me and makes me feel guilty about my duplicity. He doesn't know my suspicions. That is why I have oscillated between being wary of him and being friendly. I simply can't decide my position about that since the return or whatever you'd call it. I am beyond confused."

Hermione bit her lip in frustration. So many of her long held beliefs were crumbling down just as they were for Remus. She had dealt with people wanting to be her friends for schoolwork only and then leaving her. She knew that was definitely not the case with Harry, as she had feared. Ever since school had started again, he had drifted apart a little bit, and he was doing his homework and studying and what-not. He had even not spoken to her for two days, when she had hoped that he would come around. The boggart had spectacularly dismissed her fears. Harry held such scars that she couldn't ever imagine. She could understand why he hated Snape and wanted her to be wary of Ron now. To think that Harry could operate so covertly was adding to his enigma in her eyes. In fact, she was now wondering how she would behave now that she understood and knew what she did.

"I don't want you to worry about that, 'Mione. Trust me on this. Try not to help Ron with his homework. Let him do his own work for a change. Help him by explaining the concepts. Look at it this way. If 'this' Ron is using you like all the people in your primary school, he will move away. In that case he wasn't a friend worth having. If, instead, he works harder to achieve better on his own, you will have really helped a friend, instead of spoon-feeding him. As a matter of fact, you stand to lose absolutely nothing. It is just a suggestion, but please, at least think about it. Say, why don't you join Neville and me for non-magical studies instead? You want a non-magical degree too, don't you? We can do it together then."

Hermione considered that. It was an infinitely better idea. She sank sideways into Harry again with a sigh. It was too comfortable for her to think of the way it could be construed. It was fitting so wonderfully into her fantasy of learning even more, and yet having Harry with her always. Whatever the matter with Ron was, it could be resolved later. Right now, her biggest fear of Harry not wanting her around had been banished to the four winds. She was happy. At least she was happy till something else struck her. "Harry, could you tell me who the wives of that Harry were?"

"Huh?" Harry asked, eloquent as ever.

"His wives, Harry – you know you are supposed to have three wives at least, don't you? I told you that before."

"Et tu, Hermione?" asked Harry in mortification.

Hermione giggled – she actually _giggled_. Harry ran his hand through his hair exasperatedly, causing her to inexplicably blush. Moony smirked at the action. It was definitive proof of the Cub being Prongs' sprog.

"He didn't know anything about any of this," answered Harry. "He had been brought up to not question. He had been raised for slaughter. Coming to know about my Lordships in plural was a side effect of drawing parallels between his life in mine, and finding that it was not similar – it was the exact same, till the point I started changing mine. He didn't even know about the Lordships. I only came to know about them when I was introduced as the Heir of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Potter during my very first meeting with His Majesty, the Lord-Director. I was told that I should've taken control of my titles at eleven. In a way it is good that I didn't, because I wouldn't have gained the two founders' titles, and also wouldn't have been emancipated. When the Gryffindor ring chose me as worthy, instead of as just a possible heir-bearer, I was deemed to be an adult by deeds. Being chosen by that prestigious a House – even one with fewer votes – will help immensely in the Wizengamot. And then it's scary, because I simply don't like the idea of having multiple wives. And Sirius goes and tells me that I should separate the Gryffindor line too, so that we can control a large bloc of votes." Then he gave a violent, involuntary shudder. "And as if that wasn't morally scary enough for me, Sirius almost made it worse. He did his fatherly duties, and tried to give me 'the talk'." He shuddered again. "I would rather be a celibate for life, become a monk and join a monastery than ever be exposed to that!"

Remus and Hermione laughed at Harry's exaggerated frown, before Hermione asked, "So have you thought what to do about it?"

"I haven't, really. But then I don't think I will have to. There is a whole stack of betrothal contracts between the House of Potter and several others. Of those, I simply have to honour any that have been signed in blood, for not doing so will mean forfeiture of magic and life for both parties. I hope there aren't any of those. Sirius has been checking through them for me. Thankfully, he hasn't found any of the later type yet, and he has gone through about eighty percent of those. Very amusingly enough, there is one between the House Lupin and House Potter." He turned to Remus. "Sorry Moony, but I really don't bat that way."

"Well, I am pretty sure that I don't either, so I am not slighted." He then saw Hermione's downcast look, and understood that Harry was trying to cheer her up. But a Marauder always has to reply. "Maybe in another life, I would've had a daughter, and you would've really been my son."

Hermione gave him a filthy look. Remus smirked in return. "What do you think of that, Harry?" she asked, not knowing what answer to expect, and what answer she wanted.

"Truthfully, I don't know what to think at all. It is only now that I had started noticing girls, and then all of a sudden, I have such gigantic problems to take care of. I told you my thoughts about it though. I will blood adopt my godsons and pass on the Houses to them, unless I am forced by the House founders' rules or any blood-signed contracts, which I hope won't be a problem. Such contracts mean that the other family have some power over you, and I am pretty sure that given the Dark Family History of the Potters, we would never, as far as possible allow such a travesty to occur. What would I do of all that power, not to mention the political complications that would arise if the wives don't agree to the title and all that? Right now, I want to get rid of Voldemort, the Death Eaters, the corrupt bureaucracy and Dumbledore, not necessarily in that order. And then I want to be the best technomancer. If and when some poor girl does have her brains addled enough to fall for me, and I love her too, I want her, all of my friends and family to live happily and peacefully. The big, gigantic, pink pachyderms with polka dots that are cavorting in the room currently, need leading back to the forest. I will only think of all that – provided that there are no blood-written contracts – when I become free of all these extraneous situations. I've lost my parents Hermione, and only now do I have people who at the very least genuinely seem to like me. I'll do nothing to endanger them while there is no pressing need to. I will not make the mistake of loving anyone while Voldemort exists, and I alone know all the facts needed to deal with the matter properly."

Hermione could respect that. In fact, at the moment, it was actually mature of Harry in her opinion, to prioritise the way he had, though she truthfully, did not agree with his idea of waiting for Voldemort to be gone. (But then again, Harry was just thirteen and just exiting his toys stage). That made him even more attractive to her. Just that thought made her blush again. " _Mental note: control yourself around Harry_ ," she chastised herself. Moony seemed to have sensed that, for he looked at his watch all of a sudden, and coughed a little. Prongslet had surely found his Lily, and had gone about getting her in a much smarter way than Prongs. "Now you kids should know that the Astronomy tower is the couples' point. And given the way you two have been sitting, I can hardly condone it as a teacher. It is very suspicious."

Both the students turned red as tomatoes, before Hermione sprang off, and Remus was subjected to a volley of Stinging Hexes. Harry managed to land quite a few. Even through the slight pain, Remus still ended up laughing. This was like teasing Prongs and Lily all over again. He said as much.

"Look, Moony, we haven't had any contact before today. The thing is that I think that I know you very well, and yet you have twenty years on me. On one hand, I feel a little irreverent towards you – not disrespectful mind you, but my memories are of you and Padfoot being fun uncles/ elder brothers/ father figures. So please forgive me if I somehow offend you or something by saying something you would expect from someone my age, or from me as your nephew, or if I call you Moony as 'that' you made 'that' me do, or if I order you around over some matter. It is just becoming difficult to reconcile 'that' Harry's experiences and life with mine, and everything is becoming complicated. 'That' Harry was just about eighteen and 'that' you were nearly thirty eight; and each occasionally behaved each others' ages."

"I think I can understand that cub. And frankly I would like it better that way."

"Thanks Moony."

"You don't have to thank me, cub. So when do you want me to help you with your forms?"

"I was thinking that I should let things lie down for now. I was thinking more along the lines of the first Hogsmeade visit or something."

"Makes sense, it does..."

"Thank you, Master Yoda," interrupted Harry smarmily.

Remus ignored that, as despite living in the non-magical world, he had taken no efforts to know what a 'Yoda' was. "In all seriousness – and don't start with that pun – I should help you as soon as possible, and maybe Neville too."

A sudden rustling sound beside them revealed Neville. "I think I would want to join you on full moons too, eh, Professor?" he asked as he removed the invisibility cloak, shocking Hermione. Harry was instantly on the guard, as was Moony, before they relaxed.

"You are not shocked," Neville said, whining plaintively.

"We are surprised that anyone did get a jump on us, but no, we are not particularly shocked. How much did you hear?" Harry asked.

"Enough," replied Neville. "I heard enough to realise the questions that were plaguing me for the whole of the past summer."

"What sort of questions?" asked Harry warily.

"Well for one, you were demonstrative. You were never assertive or demonstrative up to the time when you told me about being your godbrother. Now you stand for yourself and remonstrate heavily against anything you find wrong. Then there is your willingness to be proactive and ambitiously get what you want, and you are not foolish about it. You manage to get it anyhow. I knew something was up the night you killed the basilisk. You had an extreme shyness about you before, though I can understand that after what you showed us. I would have doubted what you showed Chief Bones in our family pensieve, except that it is charmed to reject falsified memories. So your co-inhabitants of your first house – for I can neither call them your family, nor can I call that your home- made you almost afraid of human contact. Then there was your rejection of your heritage. You were proud to be a Potter, but you had no intention of getting to know more about your family. You never behaved as the Head of a family of the stature of the Potters. You hadn't a vocabulary and communication finesse that was required of you. And then all of a sudden, you struck down the Headmaster verbally, destroyed any standing Malfoy had, were much more self-assured within the space of barely six or seven hours. The old you would have never thought about having the basilisk rendered, and if he did, he would have made sure that someone else got the benefit of it. You invited us to see the basilisk, and you also claimed it under Ministry Law. You saw that every action of yours had a corresponding effect, and you realised that it wasn't always punishment as those Dursleys showed you. An action of bravery had the effect of gaining respect and resources. Your actions with the Nation made them the biggest available allies. You bought the house of your tormentors, making it around Dumbledore's ideas. You forced me onto the path where I simply had to leave my own self-doubt. In other words, you changed in a completely different angle. You were a poor, orphaned, bullied kid, who was thrown out of the playground, so to speak. And then all of a sudden, you realised that the best way of not suffering that was to own the playground and make your own rules."

Neville's speech made Harry smile, and Moony and Hermione to drop their mouths open in shock. At long last the Professor said, "That was an exceptionally insightful."

"One of the perks of being a 'natural at Mind Arts', as Harry said, is being able to analyse and theorise. The other is to be able to go past notice-me-not charms and repelling wards. Simple but strong Occlumency can bypass that, Professor. And as for me getting the jump on you, well, you forgot your bag in the class, mate. I just made good use of silencing and deodorising charms, and your cloak and map to both head off Ron, who was miffed that he wasn't among those you feared for, and also to find you." Moony and Harry only nodded dumbly.

"Do you believe me, Neville?"

"Of course I do. If at all, I am thankful that whatever happened made us brothers even earlier than for that Harry and that Neville. But now, you have to trust my judgement on a few more things."

"Yes?"

"Don't make any judgement about Dumbledore. I have heard you blaming him indiscriminately for I believe the third time...I am not sure. Anyway, the point is that unless you get rid of Snivelly, you don't have complete data. Don't theorise without it. How much of what he did was Snape ensuring that Dumbledore remained weak against the Death Eaters in the Wizengamot? We don't know. However, he is dangerous in power. If he proves to be a problem even after getting rid of Snape, destroy him. Otherwise don't cross him unnecessarily. Ranting about him doesn't help you a bit. Move on, unless you have the chance to subjugate him ruthlessly. Otherwise you are wasting your time on the wrong matters, you prat."

"But how can it be? Dumbledore will be angry about losing his pet!"

"You told me that you'd asked Chief Bones for information regarding the murders that took place then. How many newbloods were killed post-1979 when Dumbledore was cursed?"

"There was a marked rise..."

"Exactly! Put yourself in Dumbledore's position. Snivellus tells you that he wants access to the list of registered newbloods so as to intimate the Order before an attack. Even if Snivellus gave information about one in five attacks, it would be some tangible proof, in your desperation. That would make you trust Snivellus as it is, wouldn't it?"

It would, wouldn't it? "Hmm. See, I knew I kept you around for some good reason. You are better than Sirius at this," Harry cheekily said, though by no men did he yet accept even the possibility of the Headmaster's partial innocence yet.

"Learn, git," Neville retorted. "I have got the experience of a day more than you do, young Harry."

"You meant to give us more pointers, Neville."

"Yes," Neville replied contritely, ducking his head. "We need to agree to not reveal this to anyone. I suggest that you place notice-me-not charms on the memory of what you told us, with triggers."

"And how exactly am I supposed to do that, mate? I have never performed that sort of magic."

"There are some really wonderful things called books, which will give you that information. You might want to read. That by the way is another way in which you have changed. Your nature of wanting to dumb yourself down for some others made people think you wanted to coast along on your fame. You seemed to be more afraid of the library and applying yourself than you might have been of, say, facing the basilisk."

"Hey! That isn't true!" Harry protested. "I was actually _petrified_ when I faced that thing." He received a hammer blow from Hermione. "Sorry. That really was in bad taste."

"It was. But I suppose we should agree about that. The idea should be that Hermione, the Professor and I should be able to accept that you have given us explanations, and the remembrance of that explanation should be along with the particular instance. For example, if you drift away from Ronald, then whatever you have inferred about him would come to the fore."

"That is a great idea Neville," Lupin said warmly. "But it will only be necessary for Hermione at the present time."

"Thank you, sir."

"What else, Nev?" asked Harry.

"Ronald," replied Neville. "You have to put up your pretences for as long as Ron doesn't drift away himself. And you have to be as friendly as ever. You said you're confused, so well, this is the solution. Let the culpability of any rift between you two lie on his head. Due to the basilisk thingy, you have an upper hand right now. Don't let go of that."

"That makes sense, actually," said Moony pensively, Harry and Hermione agreeing with nods.

"Thanks again," Neville said with a theatrical bow, before turning to an altogether different subject. "Professor, you didn't answer me. May I join you on full moon nights? Hermione, Harry and I share all classes. She can help us for the next day." More than anything else, it was Neville's sense of adventure that was really coming to the fore.

"Are you sure you two aren't possessed by James, Sirius and Frank of the late 1970s? They were all the exact same. Frank passed out of Hogwarts before he could become an animagus, and we weren't in a lot of contact as I went after the packs. The answer, however, is no. I can understand that Harry has got his brains addled by his mutt of a godfather. You aren't handicapped that way, so please, stay out of this."

"My dad was trying to be an animagus too?" Neville asked, clearly enthused about this new information regarding his father, totally ignoring Remus' rejection.

"He had gone for the two-potion method unlike James and Sirius. Those two used the determining potion and then used meditation to learn their forms. Frank had to force his form. He was a wolf." Unknown to Moony, he had spurred Neville on for the completion of the wolf form. Remus, meanwhile, glanced at his watch. "Merlin's beard!" exclaimed he. "It is nearly dinner time! We should get a move on..."

"Thanks Professor! Just tell us if you can make it to Hogsmeade. We want to show you our forms. I want to practice my other forms too, before the full moon!"

"You are not coming!" Remus protested sternly. "I'll give you a year-long detention with Filch!"

"Don't worry, Professor, I am roughly twice as large as you are now, as Honeypaws," Neville replied, in what was clearly supposed to be a convincing argument.

"And what if I turn you out?" Remus asked.

"Well, I did say I am large. I will just break your door down." Neville was resolute, his Gryffindor side coming out in full force. "Also I am sure Harry will let me in. Believe me, if he goes into his other forms, I will be running for the hills, as a Re'em, wolf or bear," he added to inject some levity.

"You can become a Re'em?" Moony asked incredulously.

"Not entirely. I can transfigure my body into the golden fur, or grow horns or transfigure my head and limbs. But I can't do it all simultaneously. And both this git and I have similar problems with our other two forms. That is why Hermione can't be with us while we learn."

"Why can't I?" protested Hermione. "If you get hurt or something, I can only help the Professor."

"Neville, I have that problem only when I speed up my transformations. Hermione, there is a reason why Neville doesn't want you around while we practice the transformations. You see, animagus transformations are practised with a person of the same gender for a reason. Neither of us really wants you to, er, see us without our clothes," Harry told her in a bid to placate her, but his voice had petered down to a mortified whisper, with his eyes averted. Neville was pointedly looking away from Hermione, but even in the dim light, his bright red blush was visible.

"Boys!" muttered Hermione with a shake of her head, as she giggled again. She seemed to be doing that a lot for someone who prided herself in not giggling at all. "We can set up a small barrier behind which you can transform. I wouldn't need to see more than your head. And you can be blindfolded when you teach me," she added slyly.

"No!" both boys cried in unison. "We aren't doing anything of that sort."

"Is that a no to being blindfolded or to teaching me?"

"Both," replied Neville promptly.

Hermione noted, much to her amusement, that Harry did not answer, but did not look at her for a long time after that, either.


	31. Chapter 31

**A/N:** Will mostly not be from Harry's POV, but from the POV of a third person observing Harry. First part is dedicated to Hermione.

 **The Friends**

Post the incident with the boggart, Hermione had taken to observing Harry and Neville very closely. Between them, they had taken the honorary position of the two Marauders apart from Fred and George; they were continuously keeping an eye out for the younger ones and making inroads with the elder housemates and each group in turn liked them back. In fact, as it was undisputed that Hermione was the best in their year, Harry and Neville would always send any of the first two years to her if there was something to be explained and they couldn't do it. This led to the juniors thinking of her rather reverently and they had taken to treating her like a Professor, much to her irritation and chagrin.

That wasn't the only initiative they took. They also indulged in vigilante action. They always made a point to meet Mooney during at least one meal a day and talk about absolutely anything under the sun; and when some girls- including Cho Chang, who, Hermione was worried (she was worried sick about that being the case with every girl Harry would interact with), would grab Harry's attention- tried to bully her, there had been retaliation. Ever since the experiment with the notice-me-not charm, Harry had taken thought and memory based charms to an altogether different level. Every time anyone thought to hurt or harm Luna, they felt fear akin to the dementors, only on a slightly smaller scale. He had taught Luna the charm too, along with the dementor curse, the bat-bogey hex, the petrifaction and itching combo, stunners and shields, as well as physical retaliations. Between them, Neville and Harry had ensured that Luna, Susan, Hermione, the first and second years, and when they learnt of it through Astoria sister, Daphne, Tracey and Lyra too were adept at silently casting those defensive curses and could strike back physically if needed.

Yet, in spite of all this, they remained hidden except to those who benefitted as Percy had started covering for them along with Re- Moony and the twin terrors. That had been rather shocking. She had thought that Percy was very rigid about rules and respected that. When she had asked Percy about that, he had simply answered that he had lost the rose-tinted glasses through which he looked at the rules and authority figures. Through his six previous years, he had never been helped by the teachers when he had complained about the way the younger students were often treated. He had found that controlling the direction of pranks and vigilantism proved much more effective and useful in reining in delinquents.

Then there were the perpetual pranks that they played every two or three days. Fred and George had been blamed for the scale model of a petrol dispenser that followed Snape everywhere for three consecutive days, pretending to be the source of the oil on his hair. But they simply didn't have the finesse to manage a non-magical machine to that degree of perfection, nor did they have the guts to prank the potions master. The fortune cookies, which were made by overenthusiastic house-elves in the kitchens, had sold out just too easily. Ron had donned his robes and walked about with a mystical air, selling a cookie for five sickles. Each cookie contained fortune slips, ranging from pranks which wouldn't amount to bullying, to some elder students getting their dates for Hogsmeade. In reality, each slip was known, and laced with small compulsion charms towards targets who would feel like wanting to buy them, and the situation was engineered to fulfil the prophetic foretelling. Ron had ended up making twenty galleons by selling sixty eight cookies- including two to an unsuspecting Professor Trelawney.

But the biggest difference was the potions lessons that they had. Hermione had taken it upon herself to attend a lecture with Professor Tonks. What she saw nearly blew her mind. Both of the boys, or 'her' boys as she had unconsciously started to think of them, were more than competent brewers if the whole process was explained to them properly. Harry wasn't a natural like Neville, but both still managed to do fairly well enough to actually brew the potions as required by the syllabus for the examinations. It was only then that she realised that with a little help, both were fairly intelligent. And yet, they hadn't discarded her as a friend. Instead, they had taken up finding out new things regarding science at the basic levels and explaining them to Neville and Luna to bring them up to speed. It was so exciting! In fact, they had decided by the end of the first three days, that as Hermione had the least knowledge about what the newbloods and squibs that left the magical world did, she was tasked with getting owl-ordered subscriptions for several magazines related to the non-magical scientific and technological advancements, as this was a vista of communication that existed across the magical-non-magical divide. She had extended the idea to magazines like Transfiguration Today. She also unfortunately had a quarrel with Harry who simply wouldn't take off the car and auto related stuff. She had been ready to strike it off without his permission, when he had brought out the big guns. He had whined, begged and 'puppy dog eyed' her into submission. Hermione would later never know how she ended up suggesting a few more, or why she had initially resisted, when Harry had read through the magazines with the glee of a child in a candy store.

The idea had further caught on, with newbloods from other houses joining in. Irritated with the so-called Wizarding fashion talk of Parvati and Lavender, Sally had subscribed to magazines delving into fashion and movies in the non-magical world. The two girls had become totally enchanted with that, and that had led, inevitably, to the Gryffindor third-year girls (including Hermione, surprisingly) bonding together over things that boys wisely don't think of as far as possible. Daphne, Tracy and Lyra had read the magazines too, and were extremely entranced by what they called muggle ingenuity. Theo and Blaise too had asked to see them (the ones that the boys perused; not fashion magazines), and over a matter of two weeks since the first delivery, had taken to dropping by the Gryffindor table to read and chat. It was all formal at first, but it would descend to friendly informality over the period of the school year.

Driven by her inquisitiveness over Neville's recent activities, Susan accosted Hermione and Luna about the non-magical studies that Neville wanted to take up. This had led to a whispered debate across houses regarding where the magical world stood in comparison to the non-magical world. On the whole, Harry had really surreptitiously, and sneakily, in Hermione's opinion, started a movement for House Unity. People, whom she had considered to be pureblood snobs, had turned out to be wonderfully communicative once they had made an effort to reach out.

Hermione wished that she could have a glimpse of the future. Had she known, she would have been astounded. For a girl who hadn't had too many friends, Hermione would have a fairly large girls' group who she could speak with and talk about things that mattered to her passionately. Susan Bones, Hannah Abbott and Megan Jones from Hufflepuff, her own dorm-mates, Padma Patil and Mandy Brocklehurst from Ravenclaw, Daphne, Tracey and Lyra from Slytherin, Luna and Astoria, would be all girls that she could truly call her friends. These were the people she could, and would turn to if the magical world confused her, and who would turn to her to know more about the non-magical world, or even for just a chat or any sort of help in dire times. It wasn't going to be immediate, nor was it going to be smooth sailing always, but Hermione had become more accepted because of Harry's actions and her association with him than she had ever been by her peers before Hogwarts.

She could also see that her boys weren't too far off in that. Justin had turned out to be an Arsenal fan, and between Harry and the Hufflepuff, they took immense pleasure in taking the Mickey out of Dean and Colin who were West Ham and Birmingham fans respectively. Harry and Neville, she could see, had built a group of boys too. But they were much better at it than she was. Several of these new friends were also potential allies in the Wizengamot. Theo Nott, whose father was a Death Eater, was veering outright towards neutrality, along with a rejection of Voldemort's ideals. It wasn't as if they were entirely on the same side, but then nothing good ever came out unopposed. He was the pureblood tempering to Harry's political agenda, and both were enthusiastic and thankful for the different views. Indeed, he wouldn't behave like Malfoy, though he still had the pureblood comportment and ingrained supremacy. Even Hermione had had quite a few debates and discussions herself. She found him to be quite articulate and sensible, if a traditionalist. He found her to be clever, stubborn and driven. The Zabini family didn't have a Wizengamot seat, but he was also choosing to reject the pureblood agenda. To be fair, his family, and that was to say, his mother was a businesswoman. The one who held the best political and monetary exchanges for her businesses dictated her political views more often than not. On his part, Blaise was free- and actually actively encouraged- to seek new alliances (the word 'friends' did not exist in Druella Zabini's dictionary) and keep an eye and ear out for new, powerful people to seek company of (not least for the fact that she could marry them).

Justin had been a bit overenthusiastic, as had been Ernie, and Hermione chalked it down to their accusation of Harry being the Heir of Slytherin. Justin was an easy, happy-go-lucky bloke. Ernie was a prude to large extent. She couldn't help but snort as she thought of all the reactions Harry would get when the others would know all his Lordships. But that thought caused her to frown- and heavily at that. Once his Lordships would be known, every witch from eight to eighty would want to be the next Lady. And it hurt. She had finally come to terms with the fact she had a huge crush on her best friend. She also knew that Harry liked her. But she didn't know whether he _**liked**_ her. She sincerely hoped that he did. Lately, she had realised that as a teenage girl, she had become prone to daydreams and dreams at night, all of which were plagued by green eyes and messy yet limp black hair- and green eyes. Parvati had caught her staring at Harry dreamily, and had proceeded to spread the word with the other Gryffindor girls who had promptly taken the opportunity to tease the bookworm. But she couldn't help it. She knew that given his priorities, he was unlikely to ask her out to Hogsmeade, but once he could name the proxy, she hoped he would. Between them, Parvati and Lavender teased her about her staring, and teased her saying that she wanted to kiss him and so on and so forth. The worst part was that she simply couldn't even act as if she was offended, or pretend as if what they said wasn't true. It just made them tease her more. She wouldn't admit it, but being teased about her infatuation by her friends gave her a fuzzy feeling.

Speaking of friends, however, was tinged with the hurt she had felt because of Ron's behaviour. She had taken the terrible two's advice to heart, and had simply told Ron that he would do his own homework, as otherwise it would hurt his prospects. Ron had tried whining and just about every trick in the book. He had even complimented her for her brains, and Hermione swore that she heard a snort of disgust and derision behind her, but knew that it was impossible for either Harry or Neville to be around, because they had gone to the Shrieking Shack with Fred and George through the passage under the Whomping Willow. Hermione glared at Ron for good measure. While on one hand she absolutely did not want to ignore Ron, who was still her friend, she could understand Harry's point of view. She simply collected her books, and told Ron kindly, "Look, Ron, I am only doing this so you can acclimatise yourself to the sort of hard work that you will require in your OWL year. It will be better to start now, than panic then," before walking off to the library.

When she later returned to the common room, she found Neville keeping a perimeter beyond which all the other Gryffindors, including a grimacing Percy, a scared pair of twins and a dreamily, but sadly swooning Ginny, looked on. Inside the perimeter, Harry was explaining the facts of life to Ron (who sat petrified and bound to a chair) in a tone that seemingly would have been right in place while discussing the vagaries of weather, but carrying a steely note of unrestrained menace, that had almost every person around deciding that wisdom, discretion and not angering Harry Potter were the better parts of valour and inching away. He hadn't even made his power flare. He had however, started a small ring of fire around Ronald. Hermione caught what the last dregs of the conversation.

"...So you see, Mr. Weasley, it would be very wise of you to not shoot your mouth off about Hermione. It is your first and last warning, and I am being courteous enough to let you have that, simply because you are my friend. She is my best friend- one whom I definitely don't consider a sister (Hermione was rejoicing at that), if you are going to object by pointing out my brother Neville, here- and also my Protectorate. Even if she doesn't need to be protected, I'll, no matter what anyone else says. So use your self-preservation skills, and try not to bad-mouth Hermione, ok? Hurt her physically or hurt her emotions – and mind you this is a standing warning for anyone, anywhere, anytime – my wand, my fist and legs will spring into action first. If anything remains – and I can do that legally; be sure to learn about the protectorate-protector oath – I'll probably still ask questions before meting out proper punishment. Be a good little boy, and go apologise to her when she returns." Hermione spied almost all the girls from Gryffindor give Harry a lustful look, and it almost drove her over the edge. Nobody was allowed to look at _**her**_ Harry that way except _**her**_! She shook her head. "What the bloody hell am I thinking?" she mused, partly in amusement. The simple power that he exuded when he had Ron by his tender bits, figuratively speaking, made her go into a hormone overdrive.

Harry continued regardless. "Now, Ron, when you apologise to Hermione, do yourself a favour, and explain to her what exactly it was that you said and how I countered what you said. Perhaps that may give you an outside chance of being forgiven." He then simply flicked his wand and the ring of fire dissipated, Ron was unbound and un-petrified, and simply walked away to meld into the crowd. It was then that Ron had seen Hermione. She could see that anger and abject terror were fighting for face-space. She could also see Percy fingering his wand as he watched his youngest brother. The dark horse that was contrite resignation won.

All he had managed to blurt out was an indignant and affronted, "Herms, I am sorry!" before he had turned tail.

Lavender and Parvati had been the ones to actually tell her about the whole incident. Ron had complained loudly to the House in general, that she was playing hard to get and was deliberately jeopardising (he did not use the big word) his future by denying him help. Harry had intervened on her behalf only to be told that he shouldn't take the side of the nagging, bucktoothed big sister instead of his best friend. Given what Harry had suggested, she knew Harry wouldn't take Ron's side against her. It also made Harry's arguments valid. She had been in a strop after that for two days. After all, it still did hurt to hear what Ron had said. She had been moping and had been extremely morose. That was until Harry had come through again, though in a manner she sincerely hoped he wouldn't use much.

* * *

Very much in keeping with the Marauder nature and name, the four new holders of the map were trying to find their way into the girls' dormitory. The discovery had come by accident and that too in the Ravenclaw tower. Harry had been allowing Luna to treat him as her pet so as to scare her dorm-mates silly. Giving in to animal instincts proved to be a masterstroke. The protections on the staircases which could detect animagi, registered an animal instead of a boy. Harry had used that to streak up to right outside Hermione's dorm, and had tried to console her. Lavender, Sally and Parvati had protested against his presence, however, and that proved detrimental. Very highly irritated by that, Harry decided to cheer Hermione and shut the others up with a Hamper. Pushing all his intent and lot of magic and concentration into making Hermione happy and pleasing her, he brought out four sets of Happiness Hampers, directing one at each girl. The blooming, blissful smiles on their faces were reward enough. What he hadn't bargained for was for the girls, especially Hermione, to start off with the same guilty smiles as those that the girls on the train given when they had revived Astoria. Harry wrongly decided that he hadn't done enough, and reiterated his actions. This time, the girls couldn't control themselves. They had to give in to the pleasure, and duly collapsed onto their beds, moaning slightly and tossing and twitching, with gigantic expressions of happiness, as soon as he left.

Unknown to Harry, he had just gained four very enthusiastic witches for a harem if he ever wanted to create one.

* * *

Then there was her fourteenth birthday. She hadn't been expecting anything really, as neither Harry nor Ron had remembered her birthday the year before. This year, she should have known that things would be different. Just before midnight, while she was sleeping, she had been kidnapped, put into a sack and then into what had felt like a basket. The basket had been hoisted up in the air and she had felt the terrible feeling of being flown like a package. When she had been finally let out, she saw her friends from Gryffindor, all pyjama-clad, cheering for her as the Weasley twins and 'her' boys got off their brooms. She was dishevelled, sleepy and had been scared by the suddenness of everything.

A chorus of shouts of 'Happy birthday!' brought home the matter to her. Harry had baked the cake for her. He had had it delivered by Heat, a kitchen-elf, who had promptly broken down when Hermione had offered her a piece of the cake. Hermione's absolutely red face when she was called "the Great and Kind Miss Hermi" was an excellent addition to the self-updating and –extending photo album that Neville had given her. It contained a few photographs by Colin and several more by Harry who had used Gryffindor's pensieve (it allowed him physical access as well as play control while he was within it). The idea was that Hermione's parents didn't know much about her life at Hogwarts, and this would help them be included to a level, even if they couldn't show it to anyone else. Hermione had glomped Neville hard and thanked him. Harry had been just as thoughtful. He had circumvented the rules for pets by giving Hermione's parents a large tawny owl. It had soared in with her gift from her parents that she would open privately. The explanation was that as Hedwig was not an indigenous species of owl, her flights would cause undue attention. This way, the owl, which had been named Adrian, was the way for Hermione's parents to send her letters and care packages. He would be living with them, and this way they could communicate with her too, without waiting for Hedwig. Hermione would still use Hedwig. The gift to her, directly, however, had her squealing and near-about jumping Harry. He had given her a set of books. Not just any books, though; the set was a rare collectible- preserved first editions of 'Sense and Sensibility (1811)', 'Pride and Prejudice (1813)', 'Mansfield Park (1814)', 'Emma (1815)', 'Persuasion (1817)' and 'Northanger Abbey (1817)'.

The round of laughter that followed had Hermione turning into an overripe tomato once again. To her utter shock and surprise, Harry, far from being mortified by the contact and the laughter, was grinning from ear to ear goofily, almost as if he wanted just that to happen. She hoped that it really wasn't wishful thinking on her part. He had stayed back for a private word after everyone went back to their dormitories. He had hugged her, and kissed her on each cheek, before asking her to read at least one of the books. Hermione had fallen asleep mid-read, and had woken up with a beaming smile, cuddling into Harry. She really didn't want to move. It was a blessing that it was Sunday. The party in the RoR, which had her friends from all houses attending, really made her day. It was the first time she ever could celebrate something as simple as her birthday with friends. It was simply wonderful.

That was not to say that she wasn't included in the politicking. Once Harry had told her as much as he could, without endangering her, he had brought her onboard with his plans. She had been tasked with checking through the speeches, claims, complaints and grievances, oaths and agendas that Harry would use in the Wizengamot. He had done a decent job, but he trusted her enough to help him prepare, and to speak to the point, clearly and concisely, without giving away too much information. This wasn't homework. She was being trusted with the power games! It made her feel important, if she would admit it to herself. Each of her previous years had been an adventure. This year would be so too, but in a different manner. While she had no ambitions in that direction, and neither did Harry, she knew it was important to destroy the supremacist faction. She snorted at the idea of Ron telling her that he had thrown her away. The prat would never really know Harry.

* * *

Luna was similarly placed. She had thought that with them being in different Houses at Hogwarts, Neville, Hermione and Harry would forget all about her. Instead, they would make it a point to have at least one meal with her, depending on their timetables. That made her very happy. She had asked Harry about the paper mill. He had told her that he hadn't yet obtained permission to visit one, but would try next summer. She found it amusing that she could pester someone else and was still given answers without the person getting angry, even if the person wasn't her daddy. Some of the Nargles had tried to bully her again, but they had been miraculously pranked. She had also been given a near regimental training for reaction to any sort of bullying. She had been told that since they were in different houses and years, it would be difficult to keep watch all the time, even though both boys had accepted that she wouldn't need it. The training was for self-defence.

Then there was the non-magical education that Harry had told her about. There was this thing called zoology and field studies which really appealed to her. He had put her into contact with the people who were helping him and Neville with their education away from Hogwarts. It made sense. Hermione promised to show her the channels on something called the TV that showed how non-magical people tracked animals. She hadn't known that much kindness and help or felt that much excitement as she shared things with people. Padma, Lisa, Su and Mandy always looked out for her inside Ravenclaw, and so did Terry, Anthony and Michael Corner. That meant she hadn't been bullied for quite some time. She had to admit, though, that it was also partly due to a now overlarge grim playing with her in the Ravenclaw common room. It had been enough to scare people off. When Cho, Marietta and their cronies had started to heckle at her and were going to come at her, Harry had transformed fully, giving in to the animal instincts. The sight of gleaming red eyes, the scary open jaw and the smoky breath was enough to make the girls faint. They had avoided her actively after that. Luna had had to control Harry a lot, and scold and pet him before he calmed down.

She had friends from not only the Ravenclaws but also other houses and years. Astoria was a good sketch artist. Daphne had suggested that she tell Astoria how the animals that she saw looked like so that the girl could sketch them. That had helped as people could now understand them. The Blibbering Humdingers had turned out to be something that even Hagrid had known, albeit by another name. People didn't laugh at her much anymore. They laughed with her.

Harry and Neville had promised her that they would teach her how to be an animagus once she became fifteen. She had wanted to pout and whine, but both had stood firm on that. They had reasoned that as she was a girl, her magic and body grew in a different way to theirs and that they would be thoroughly out of their depths in that case. She found that she liked it a lot when she was scolded like that. It was almost as if they were really her big brothers. Most importantly, she found out that people liked her. Her first year at Hogwarts was very bad. But now, it was a completely welcoming place.

* * *

Neville no longer had to wonder about Harry. He had learnt what went in the inscrutable mind of his godbrother. He could find only one problem with Harry. He still talked a lot and tended to climb onto the soapbox. He wouldn't be well served in the Wizengamot if he let his mouth off, as he was wont to do. It was amazing the sort of changes one person could instigate.

Neville wondered at the changes a span of barely three months had wrought. Three months ago, he wouldn't have dared to have these opinions. Now he was considered to be a wise counsel by the person who had brought about the changes. It was true, the changes were a result of yet another inexplicable incident in Harry's life, but he could understand why he had been so sneaky and untrusting. The 'other' Neville might have helped the 'other' Harry, but as far as Neville was concerned, 'this' Harry had helped 'this' him. So Neville had taken up the task of keeping Harry on the straight and narrow. It was difficult, particularly given the fact that Harry could be simultaneously an adult, a teenager, and a kid (When Neville would later meet Sirius, he would come to know that his friend was part James, Sirius and Professor Lupin, just as he was much more of his father, and a little of his godfather James and a lot of Professor Lupin too). Case in point was Harry's fight with Ron. Neville now knew that Harry didn't even want to be in the same room as Ron for fear of blowing up. That didn't mean that it was wise to blow up the git. After Ron had apologised to Hermione, however grudgingly, Neville had convened the 'Trio' (a lie, he thought, if there was ever one) and forced the two boys to talk.

Both were being equally stubborn. Hermione had played the coy, demure lady and tried to be the peacemaker. Harry had very grudgingly apologised to Ron for excessive use of force, but refused to apologise for what he said. He explained gruffly, that the magic of the Protector and Protectorate bond demanded Harry to put down any attacker, verbal or physical. Ron was lucky to escape alive, only because Harry had managed to restrain himself by constantly reminding himself that Ron was a friend. That, however, had turned Ron's face white enough to let the other three count his freckles. The easy and nice outcome of it all was that Ron had really apologised to Hermione, who in turn had explained that she wouldn't always be there to help him through. He had to build his own competence. Whether or not that would happen was up in the air but it had resulted in Ron drifting away, much to Harry's joy. He had also had to ensure that Harry behaved suitably contrite and acted as if he had made up with Ron. On their part, they tried to include Ron with them, or at least acted that way. The redhead however, had other plans and priorities.

For Neville's part, he could truly say that he and his godbrother were a solid team. Neville's brand of justified and appropriate pacifism, in tandem with Harry's confrontational instincts was working like a dream.

* * *

Ron wasn't really happy. He was Harry's best mate. But Harry had said that Hermione was. It hadn't really escaped Ron, that Fred and George, Lee Jordan and Neville were very chummy and were the pranksters currently shocking the school. Yes, he had been let in on the pranks and would actively cast charms and spells. He was even allowed into the planning. But no longer was he the owner of the best mate territory. He wasn't even sure who Harry's best mate was anymore. Everyone from all the houses seemed to be on excellent terms with the new Harry who was always joking, laughing, studying and getting good scores, had money- though truthfully he couldn't complain on that account anymore, as he had seven hundred and fifty thousand Galleons of his own, even though he had chosen to share the money with his family. It was a big positive change for him now. He now had a spanking new broom, wand and robes. Even his books were brand new (and there was a big chance of them remaining the same way). His father didn't have to worry about the Hogwarts fees of his children. The investments being handled by Gringotts had ensured that they'd never be poor again. Harry had completely changed all their lives. It was the first time since his great-grandfather that they had any money at all.

But money had not made Ron the centre of attention. That was what he craved the most- to be recognised. Harry hadn't forsaken him, but now he wasn't constrained to him alone as his friend either. Ron really wanted to not feel jealous of that. But Harry wouldn't goof around at all. He had talked to Wood about the reserve Keeper position, and Ron and the fourth year, Cormac McLaggen, had even made it to the final round of tryouts. The achievement had been celebrated wildly. Somehow, there had been butterbeer, cakes and fried food to celebrate the selection with. Harry had been genuinely happy for Ron, and had pre-booked tickets for Ron's first Chudley Cannons game. The git knew exactly what to say, or so Ron had thought, until Oliver had cornered him to find out about the physical changes. Very foolishly, idiotically, in Ron's opinion, Harry had told him about the exercises athletes in the muggle world used. It was bloody torture- an absolute nightmare. But Ron could not claim the adulation from his house-mates alone. Neville had turned out to be a surprisingly good flier and had taken up one of the reserve beaters' positions. The chief problem was that this Harry was now almost cruel if anyone hurt Hermione. He had asked Percy about the Protector-Protectorate bond and Percy had told him that what Harry had said was true. Any manner of attack on Hermione would earn a vicious response from Harry. Ron did not like that. Harry had only somehow managed to tone down his reaction.

The worst part was that Ron kept feeling that Harry now had many secrets from him. He had no proof of course, but nobody really seemed to know the real Harry anymore. He did not like it at all. Most of all, though, Ron really did not want to change. And even more than that, he wanted to be better than Harry at something. And he realised that there was a thing which Harry had no idea about. Ron grinned to himself. Harry would have everything else, maybe, but he, Ronald Weasley, would be the one popular with the girls. And so began Ron's journey towards being a cad.

The fact of the matter was that Ron found Harry's behaviour confusing. He was the same kind of the friend and person he was over the previous two years- except the pranks, which had become a signature of his. Harry's pranks were subtly executed, though nowhere close to being subtle in nature (not that Ron thought about that in those terms). Ron had been forcibly reminded of the book his father had confiscated once, when the whole school had been speaking in limericks for two days. However much he wanted to say it wasn't funny, it was just difficult to not laugh at Snape, McGonagall, Lupin and all the other teachers teaching in limericks. Harry and Fred had been snitched to McGonagall by the house-elves finally after she had managed to guilt trip them into it, and had served yet another detention. That was even more amusing, because Neville and George had been the ones to come up with the potion. Between the four of them, they had racked up more detentions in a month than Fred and George could till Christmas. He also seemed interested again in goofing off a bit, playing chess, talking Quidditch- just not to the same level as before. His homework was always complete within two days of assignment, he had extensive notes, and he often managed charms, transfiguration, and DADA spells easily, much before even Hermione- before he would start to experiment and blow up things. That helped them shore up the points he lost to his mischief. Ron was often dragged off to explore the castle.

Ron Weasley was floundering as things changed around him and demolished his comfort zone.

* * *

Ginny had a more devious mindset. To her mind, Harry had not done right by her. He hadn't done right by her at all. Her father and elder brother had explained that by the oath he had sworn, it was impossible for her to ever be his girlfriend or wife. She had cried and cried over that. Why would he do such a thing? She had fought with Bill for the first time ever over that. The two of them would look exactly like his parents. She looked like his mother. Wasn't that a point in her favour? Bill, and her other four brothers too, had looked extremely ill at that. Percy had very simply said that it was not a point in her favour at all, and instead it was a sign that Harry was not touched in the head. Fred and George had become sort of his cronies, and wouldn't hear a word against him.

The visit to the Healer that she had really tried to resist had shown her that she wasn't a monster. It was rather the same set of arguments Harry had used to try and convince her. What it did tell her was that Harry was her weakness. The Healer had tried to convince her that her hero wasn't showing her pity. She wasn't happy, respecting Harry's choice. It was painful. So, she had made plans. While she had accepted that Harry would never be hers, she would make him jealous by showing him what he would be missing. She would show him why she was superior to that know-it-all bookworm and why he would be happy only with her, Ginevra Weasley, and nobody else. If he had made her unhappy for life, she deserved to do the same to him on her account.

* * *

Ron and Ginny weren't the only Weasleys affected by the changes wrought by Harry. Not that it was unexpected. The twins still remembered the ickle kid they'd helped onto the train two years ago. At that time, they hadn't known who he was. It was only later that they'd found him out to be Harry Potter, the boy-who-lived-and had-too-many-bloody-hyphenations-to-his-name. He'd been nothing like the legend they had imagined to be – he was rather small. But the kid had come into Gryffindor with their brother as his best mate. Both the years since had been filled with danger and adventure, and that was saying something if they noted it, because they were the premier troublemakers in the school.

But their eyes had been really opened up to the real Harry Potter during the second year. They'd been disgusted by situation in which they had found him with those muggles. As if that wasn't enough, the school year had been fraught with mortal danger. The Heir of Slytherin matter was a wonderful joke opportunity that they had milked thoroughly. Even Harry seemed to appreciate it as their jokes made people realise how foolish the very idea was. But even their jokes couldn't bring him out of the funk induced by Hermione's petrifaction. That had led to one more joke that they hadn't let him know about. They had started a pool for when the two would get together.

Yet all of that had fallen by the wayside when their little sister had been kidnapped by her possessor. One look at the Basilisk he had fought after that to bring her back – in his self-proclaimed and self-employed position as her seventh brother – had shown them exactly why he was legend. And this person was, and always had been a friend first. That had come through, when he'd brought them out of poverty all by himself and ensured that they would be continually rich – rich, not well-to-do – at least as long as they wouldn't blow money and waste it. The twins weren't really materialistic, particularly given their ambitions to make it big, but this had been help and aid to their family beyond anything that could be classified as normal. Harry had shrugged off any debt, but for Fred and George, it was a matter of honour. They'd silently made him an honorary Weasley, and Weasleys always stuck together. And they sometimes always stuck two others together using a sticking charm, though never permanent.

But the Harry that had returned from the holidays was nothing like the one they had left behind in England. This one was a man after their own heart! The first day prank on the new defence Professor, the pranks on Neville Longbottom (another to keep an eye out for, he excelled at potion-based pranks), and several more with him, all performed casually meant that he was almost a rival to their position. But that was to be expected from the son of Prongs, wasn't it? And then he had taken the step never before taken by a student. He had started pranking Snape. They didn't know why he was so particularly vicious on the Potions Master, but it was obvious that there was something more than just the previous two years for such continued retribution. The most important part was that the slime-ball was being pranked every alternate day, and there was never anything to point out Harry or Neville as the perpetrators. In fact, both were meticulously clean in terms of detentions (only from Snape, that is), except for the one Harry got for the first day prank and the others thereafter when only Lupin could catch him (now that they thought of it, it was always Lupin who either caught them or helped catch them. This had to be investigated further and in depth). That wasn't where it all stopped.

He had given them a few comics from the muggle world, which they had gleefully read. It was only then that he explained that most of his vicious pranks were vigilante actions against bullies. He had showed them his methods of gathering intelligence and proof against the ones he targeted. It was impressive. What was even more important was his encouragement to help him prank them. It was better and more gallant than pranking first years. He had also given them ideas to come up with prank products. Prank foods, fake wands (which they had already made), extendable ears and extruded eyes (a periscope, a pair of binocular and a telescope different from the ones they used in Astronomy had made it to them for research purposes). They couldn't make sense of the sudden changes, but they liked this version of their honorary brother better. They had expectations from Ron, but Harry was proving to be more useful than Ron had. It was rather odd to compare the two of them that way, but Ron had somehow, rather magically, disappointed the twins.

For Percy too, the previous six months had been one of upheaval. So many things had been explained, so many things had happened that he no longer looked at authority figures and rules through the rose-tinted glasses he once did. It wasn't solely the actions of Harry that had caused this turnabout. He had been the instigator. The changes had been wrought by his discussions with Bill and his father. The goblins hated the Minister, but wasn't he supposed to be an upstanding citizen? They knew what Dumbledore had done to Harry. Wasn't he the most powerful and greatest wizard ever?

The discussions had led to an epiphany of sorts for Percy. Yes there were rules. Yes some people were powerful. And yet, it was power that corrupted the people. Rules were useless if they didn't apply logically to all. Rules were useless if they weren't just. And a peek through all the laws and rules that the Ministry supported showed that the Ministry itself was useless. It had led to a sort of breakdown for Percy. And again, Harry had come through. There was a way to be a rule enforcer, and a respectable person. It wasn't necessary to join the Ministry for that, though he could still do so if he wished by the alternate path. Harry put him in touch with Ted Tonks. The two had struck up correspondence and Percy found himself veering towards an apprenticeship with the law firm. It had been a tremendous learning curve. For that alone he would be personally indebted to the boy – no, respectable young man who came through for his friends time and again.


	32. Chapter 32

A/N: In the chapter, there will be a none-too-subtle dig at the wilfully atrocious pronunciation of words of non-European origin by the British. I am not sorry about it at all. And this will be long, probably the longest chapter of the story. There will be a scene where Harry will show his impatient teenage side, more than his rant anyway.

 **The Wizengamot- Shocks, Oaths and Surprises Galore**

Immediately after breakfast on the 19th of September, Harry had left for Gringotts where Madam Longbottom had been introduced to Wormtail. To say that the woman had been incensed was an understatement. Harry had purposely called Amelia for help. He really was a little scared of the formidable Madam Longbottom. He was sure that whatever the situation, he would be pretty scared if she lost her temper violently. She had done exactly that in the auspices of Marauders' Place. She had literally blown her top when she had been first explained the situation, then again when she had met Pettigrew, and then twice again when she was explained how Sirius had been broken out and when she met him. By the end Sirius, Amelia and Harry were all cowering a bit. It was only then that she had been brought in onto the plan to topple the incumbents that she had calmed down. She had been appreciative of the efforts, but had added a couple of ideas herself. The real shocker, however, had been the results of the studies on the Dark Mark. Harry had taken the efforts to ensure that a copy was shown to six of his core seven group of people, barring Remus. He wasn't ready for all the information, yet. He was prone to reacting unpredictably in such situations. These were his core seven, the people whom he could trust to help him in anyway where Gringotts couldn't. **(** With Minerva though, Harry had done a Dumbledore on her- he hadn't told her everything, and frankly he would never trust her enough to do so. The more pertinent reason which he had told her was the fact that as a part of her profession she was too close to Dumbledore, and the risks were too high to risk her. He had made her find a suitable tutor for Occlumency, and insisted that Hermione and Luna attend too. **)** It was only referenced that the Death Marks were Necromantic symbols and objects, the real story was that they were Horcruxes (again not explicitly mentioned). It made sense. It was typical of Voldemort. He could have lots of him running around.

Nobody had known that Hermione could speak such wonderfully colourful language. Amelia had brought in Algernon Croaker, who himself had once been a Gringotts curse-breaker, to put the seal of acceptance by the Department of Mysteries on the study.

The situation at Hogwarts was being controlled by Neville, Hermione, Luna, and for the sake of inclusion, Ron. All four had explicit instructions regarding the missive to be delivered to their friends, to keep them ready for any surprises, and also to help deal with the repercussions. There was at least one person in every House to deal with the fallout- Justin and Susan in Hufflepuff; Lyra, Blaise and Daphne in Slytherin (which would be the most difficult because of the Lordship); Luna (who had miraculously shed her dreamy countenance for this) and Anthony, and Penelope (much to Hermione's consternation) in Ravenclaw. Harry had made sure to talk to them simultaneously on the 21st, making sure that everyone got the real story. There was no danger of the Prophet reporting something out of the ordinary, as Sirius had ensured that there would be only pure, unembellished, hard (they ran out of appropriate adjectives) facts.

The whole situation was set up. All the formal alliance members of the Bones-Longbottom-Potter alliance had been sounded out in preparation. Harry was feeling nervousness grip him as the anticipation built up. The Lord of four Noble Houses and the Heir to another, was reacting about the same way he had the morning of his first-ever Quidditch match- by nearly becoming sick.

The session of the 22nd September 1993, Autumnal Equinox, did not have any inkling regarding the maelstrom that would churn its waters thoroughly. Harry had a terrible night, and his friends knew about it. Hermione was forcibly reminded of the first ever Quidditch match. If at all, Harry looked greener at the prospect of facing a hall full of people than flying a broomstick at terrifying heights and even more terrifying speeds (she never found any reason to like it as the boys did, and it was very disturbing for her that all three of her friends were speed freaks). But she was deviating from the matter again.

She had helped him prepare for the session well. Right from the formal attire, the rings, the summoning of Gryffindor's sword, the speeches and oaths and claims, reading up on the laws, participation in the debate, and a no-confidence declaration by Harry's Houses; Hermione knew and participated in everything. She was appreciating the work that Harry would have to put in. While it was true that Harry couldn't go again till he was twenty one without the proxy he would nominate in his place, it was still necessary to show the powers that he held. It was an altogether different experience for her, and indeed, while she didn't exactly revel in it, she was fascinated.

Harry had told her about the Umbridge woman as the trial too would be held on the day of the Equinox. He couldn't explain in detail, but he had told her and implied enough to let her know what kind of a vile woman the Ministry hag was, and would be. She, along with Neville, Luna, Percy and the twins (the three Weasley brothers had been ordered convinced to keep things a secret for the time being) had been sounded out. They had near-about counselled him and convinced him that getting her killed would not make him a monster in their eyes. The relief on his face when they said that was palpable. All the same, Hermione sincerely wished that Ron had been around to help his friend. Even though Harry had apologised, Ron had kept his distance and was certainly bearing a grudge against Harry. It was totally unbecoming of Ron to desert Harry, when even his brothers were helping their friend.

Lady Longbottom had come to Hogwarts to collect Harry just after Dumbledore left. It was rather obvious that secrecy was of paramount importance till Harry's claims were ratified by the magic of the chamber. With a day's pass for absence from his lessons, obtained at Minerva's behest, to ensure that all the teachers knew, the two left by Floo from the Three Broomsticks to the Ministry. It was a most important day, and the successful conclusion of the various businesses would shake the Magical society of Britain. With a grim expression, the two marched towards the doors of the hall where the session would be held, Harry pulling the cloak hood to cover his face.

Augusta and Hadrian were sitting side-by-side in the Bones-Longbottom-Potter Alliance Bloc. Augusta had introduced Harry to the members of the Alliance, as well as several members of the neutral independents. Of the alliance, the Lords Fawley and Cuthbert were fathers of the first-years that Harry had taken the responsibility of, and so were appreciative of his efforts and very warm towards him. Amelia had Elladora Cartwright as her proxy. She couldn't sit in the Bones' seat herself as she had the seat of a department head.

The litany of the Alliance members read as follows: Clan Chief of Ernest MacMillan II (Ernie's grandfather); Lord Melvin (Ancient and Noble House of Melvin); Lord Fitzgerald Edgbaston (of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Edgbaston); Lord Marcus Grimson (of the Noble House of Grimson); Lady Regent Dowager Elizabeth Turnbull for her daughter, Heiress Alexandra Turnbull (she was a Ravenclaw a year ahead of Harry) (of the Ancient &Noble House of Turnbull and the Ancient and Most Noble House of Lancelot; Harry wondered whether she was allowed two husbands for her two Houses, but shrugged off the thought. It was impossible given the double standards of the magical society) along with Regent Andrew Chambers for the House of Lancelot; Lady Veronica Bluewater (the last of her line of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Bluewater; she was a Hufflepuff a couple of years after Harry's parents); Lord John Adams (Auror Herbert's uncle, of the Noble House of Adams); Lord Crompton Aldridge (of the Ancient and Noble Houses of Aldridge, Farleigh, and Firth); Regent Everard Hargreaves for his nephew Elmore Hargreaves (Heir to the Ancient and Noble House of Hargreaves and the Most Noble House of Trescothick); Lord Reginald Dearborn (of the Most Noble House of Dearborn); Lady Regent Dowager Augusta Longbottom (Ancient and Most Noble House of Longbottom); Lord Tiberius Ogden (Noble House of Ogden); Lady Callidora Branstone and Lady Annabeth Gladstone-Branstone for their Husband, Lord Rudyard Branstone, also the custodian Lord Gladstone, the British Magical Ambassador to Japan (of the Ancient and Noble House of Branstone and the Noble House of Gladstone); Lord Scott Fawley of the Noble House of Fawley; Lord Alfred Cuthbert of the Ancient and Noble House of Cuthbert; Elladora Cartwright as Proxy for the Ancient and Most Noble House of Bones; and Lord Hadrian Potter (of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Potter, Ancient and Noble House of Peverell, and the Most Noble Houses of Gryffindor and Slytherin, and Heir of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black).

Between them, Sirius and Gran had coached him regarding the manner of formal speech for Lords and Heads of Houses, and Neville had coached him regarding the formal speech for the Heir (he hadn't been given the memory block regarding Sirius, despite his protests). Hadrian used it to great effect on their side. It led to few very curious glances. People were looking at him in outright surprise, puzzlement, openly questioning and not a little distrust. Hadrian frowned. Thankfully, Gran had seen those very looks and mouthed "later".

The other 'light' families sat, thirty one in all, with forty three Houses of various statures between them. The neutral families sat to their right, thirty two in all, with thirty nine Houses between them. This was an intriguing group. Hadrian had thought that the so-called dark faction would be ganging up together, Death Eater buddies all. Instead, Lord Peter of the Ancient and Noble House of Parkinson, Lord Theodore III of the Ancient and Most Noble House Nott, Lord Raymond Selwyn of the Noble House of Selwyn were all sat among the Neutrals, along with Lord Cygnus Greengrass (Ancient and Most Noble), Lord Nathaniel Abbott (Ancient and Noble), Shri-Kulapati Vasant Patil (an honorary seat for exemplary services during the war against Voldemort), Lord Patrick Davis (Noble), Lord Desmond Crompton (Most Noble) and others. Among them sat the Fellows of the Order of Merlin, with Amanda Smith, the only newblood in the House. The section seated forty nine members in all.

The section that, ironically, sat closest to the government representatives and department heads, jury and the seat of the Chief Warlock, was the 'Dark' Families. It was just too representative of how magical Britain worked- the Dark Families ruled. He knew some of them- Malfoy, Avery, Rookwood (senior; the son wasn't the Lord yet, and could never be), Crabbe and Goyle, Urquhart, Flint, Travers, McNair, Yaxley, Fleamont, and _Prince_ \- among others. The seats of Malfoy, Lestrange and Black were empty. He suppressed a snigger at the idea of Sirius sitting among **_them_**. People like Burke, Borgin, Ollivander (surprisingly) too had seats, though not among the Dark families, but instead as respected Elders, along with Marchbanks, Hayden and Ashwood.

There was one seat among the Neutrals that Harry was worried about. Why had Moony never taken his seat? Before he could muse any further about it, though, Gran gripped him by the elbow, quickly casting a notice-me-not charm on him. Dumbledore, Fudge and the Heads of Departments were in the hall.

Once a show of wands for attendance was completed (the charm Lady Regent Dowager Longbottom had applied to Hadrian making everyone else overlook the presence of a representative for the Potter seat- empty seats such as those defaulted to the House), the wands (the Wizengamot session always had a wand count to prevent dubious voting; so all the wands) were stowed away in the vanishing niche that each seat carried, before Dumbledore ordered, "Seal the doors!" Harry was at loggerheads with the old man, but couldn't deny that he had style. The order carried across all eight doors to the hall, and was rapidly carried through.

"Hear ye, hear ye! The Hallowed Hall of Justice and Wisdom, the Wizengamot convenes for its eleven thousand six hundred and sixty fourth session on this day, the twenty second of September, nineteen ninety three, for the special session on the Autumnal Equinox, by law, by oath, and by tradition. The officials and aides are as follows: In the Chair, Chief Warlock Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. In the jury are Madam Griselda Marchbanks, Deputy Chief Witch; the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Oswald Fudge and his Heads of Department; Order of Merlin, First Class Awardee Wilhelmina Cromwell, and the brethren and ladies of the Hall. Court Announcer: Richard Leyland. Court Scribe: Artorius Goldman."

"Thank you, Announcer Leyland," Dumbledore intoned. "Scribe Goldman, state the first order of business." The scribe passed a sheet of paper to the Announcer to be read out.

"The first order of business on this day, the 22nd of September 1993, Autumnal Equinox, is the trial for conviction and sentencing of Dolores Jane Umbridge, formerly the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic, on several charges of murder, rape, fraud, and intimidation. The previous session- the monthly session of August- held on the 10th of August, 1993, found Ms. Umbridge liable to be tried due to availability of proof as supported by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. The Minister's office was ordered to cease, desist and abstain from any connection with this matter. By request of the Director of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Miss Umbridge had been remanded at a secure and secret facility. The case awaits resumption and justice."

Dumbledore nodded gravely, and then banged his gavel. "Bring in the accused." Harry had not encountered Umbridge in the current timeline, but he was nigh on bordering ecstatic to see the woman brought in. She looked bedraggled and pained, a wretch as she really was. She was shackled into the prisoners' chair. It made Harry's day. The court interrogation started.

"Are you Ms. Dolores Jane Umbridge, aged forty, born on sixteenth of May 1953, formerly the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic?"

"I am, Dumbledore! Cornelius, you can't allow them to do this to me!" Dolores was perpetually screaming, and nobody paid her irrelevant ramblings any mind.

"The accused has been identified. I ask the prosecution to state their case." That was the cue for Director Bones and Lady Elizabeth Crompton, the Chief Prosecutrix, to state the case.

"The Prosecution asks the Chair to recognise Chief Prosecutrix Lady Elizabeth Crompton and Director Amelia Bones of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement as representatives."

"The Chair recognises the representatives."

"Thank you, Chief Warlock." Lady Crompton then delivered the opening statement. "Lords, Ladies, and honourable members of the Wizengamot, we are gathered here to enumerate and determine the crimes of Ms. Umbridge, and it is with great disgust (her voice showed that she was actually feeling the word) that I shall tell you all about the crimes she has perpetuated, there by besmirching the Ministry, its pillars of support among you, and traditions.

"Miss Umbridge has been accused of several wrongdoings. The charges against her will now be listed. We shall start from the charges with greatest severity. At the end of the Blood War IN 1981, investigations were being carried out against several members of the magical community, believed to have been Death Eaters. The Ministerial Office had brought up an injunction regarding this. The Department of Magical Law Enforcement was required to seek permission to investigate members of the society. While the Department of Magical Law Enforcement did not allow this as it was clear intrusion against the course of law, the Department suffered severe losses. Several Aurors were inexplicably killed while investigating high profile cases. There had been no clear evidence or proof against anyone, though with the precedent by the Minister's office, the Department was in the sorry state of having suspicions against the august office. Substantial evidence, both hard and circumstantial has now been found against Ms. Umbridge and her three associates, Mr. Murdock, Mr. Colback, and Mrs. Parker. They are charged with aiding and abetting the murder of," she glanced at her list and recited thirteen names, "along with the challenger to the Ministerial post Lord Francis Turnbull. The prosecution requests permission to submit the copies of the investigative reports and entries, records of wand usage by the Department of Mysteries, and an addendum of comments and conjecture regarding this charge to the Wizengamot and the Chief Warlock. The Prosecution would also like to clarify that Ms. Umbridge had possession of three illegal wands, which too have been stripped and checked. The Department of Mysteries has established that Ms. Umbridge was the owner of these wands, and that all three Unforgivables have been performed using each of her four wands."

That got everyone angry. Evidently Lord Francis was a very popular and well-liked person. As he was in Harry's alliance, he was hardly ever going to let Umbridge go, even without her other crimes.

Dumbledore banged his gavel to silence the hall. "Permission is granted, Chief Prosecutrix Crompton."

"Thank you, Chief Warlock. Her list doesn't end here. There are clear records of financial embezzlement of funds dedicated to the Auror force and the Department of International Magical Co-operation. Funds were not only diverted, but understated in official budgetary notices, while excess money was transferred in reality. These records though incomplete regarding the further spread of money, have all been traced to Ms. Umbridge. The prosecution requests permission to submit the copies of the investigative reports and entries, proofs from Gringotts, held true under treaty, and an addendum of comments and conjecture regarding this charge to the Wizengamot and the Chief Warlock."

"Permission is granted, Chief Prosecutrix Crompton."

"Thank you, Chief Warlock. The next crime that has been perpetrated by Ms. Umbridge is against all morality, laws and magic. The charges of criminal intimidation and ending four ancient and/or noble lines are added against Ms. Umbridge."

That did it. Harry sat as people around him shouted and asked for Umbridge to be given the 'Dementors' Kiss' immediately. He looked to where Amanda Smith sat, and shared an exasperated shrug with her. The woman's eyes widened as she recognised him, and Harry gave her a lopsided grin, with a finger over his mouth. Smith smirked and nodded.

Dumbledore once again employed his gavel again. "Silence in the Court please! Continue your statement, Chief Prosecutrix Crompton."

"Ms. Umbridge has performed physical bonding with four heirs, who have since been checked by St. Mungo's. Each of them had been raped, their memories had been modified, and impotency curses had been put on them. The names of these Heirs will be submitted to the Chief Warlock, but requests have been made by each house to keep the information secret. St. Mungo's tests on Ms. Umbridge have confirmed that she was the perpetrator. Three more instances of criminal intimidation towards the same end have been brought forth. It may be noted that each of these three cases have victims that are of at least partial non-magical descent. Their memories had not been tampered with, however. They had been intimidated into the acts under threat to their families. Department of Magical Law Enforcement employed curse breakers have found contracts signed with illegal blood quills in Ms. Umbridge's home protected under dark curses. The prosecution requests permission to submit the copies of the compendium of investigative reports and entries by the investigators and curse-breakers on site, authentic reports by St. Mungo's, requests of secrecy by the Houses wronged, the contracts recovered from Ms. Umbridge's home and an addendum of comments and conjecture regarding this charge to the Wizengamot and the Chief Warlock."

"Permission is granted."

Once all the copies were deposited as evidence, Dumbledore tapped on them with his wand. There was a sound not unlike that of a note counter found in banks, and then a scroll of parchment appeared in front of him- a summary of the evidence with references to important sections of the dossiers and chargesheet. He gravely turned to Umbridge and with a grimace of disgust, asked, "Dolores Jane Umbridge, to the charges levelled against you, how do you plead?"

"I plead not guilty!" she screeched defiantly.

"Very well," Dumbledore acknowledged, before turning to the Wizengamot in general. "Does any respected member of this August body wish to represent Ms. Umbridge?"

The protocol demanded that anyone who wished to do so would raise his/her wand and light it. Nobody did so.

"Does anyone wish to ask questions off either the Prosecution or the defendant?"

Shri-Kulapati Patil raised his lit wand. "I humbly request the hall to acquiesce my request to ask questions off both the Prosecution and the defendant."

"Request granted."

"Thank you, Chief Warlock. My first question is to the Prosecutrix. How and why were proceedings and investigations against Ms. Umbridge initiated?"

"Shri-Cool-a-patty Pat-ill (Kulapati Patil) the Investigation Procedure was initiated under a complaint against Ms. Umbridge on the filing of a complaint by the Lord of an Ancient and Most Noble House. This peer of the magical world wishes to keep his identity a secret. I have proper authorisation to offer oath on his behalf that no evidence was planted, nor was there any manner in which Ms. Umbridge was framed wilfully or by inadvertence for any crime that she may not have committed," answered Amelia.

"Thank you Director Bones. My next question is to Ms. Umbridge..."

"I won't answer any of your questions, scum!" the demented woman screeched.

"Ms. Umbridge, the Court censures you for insulting an upstanding member of the British magical society-" started Dumbledore, but Umbridge cut across him.

"Whatever you call him doesn't make him anything but scum! Foreign dirty breed is what he is!"

"You leave me no option, Ms. Umbridge. Shri-Cool-a-patty Pat-ill, do you have any questions for the Prosecution? Ms. Umbridge has been deemed as an uncooperative defendant."

"No, Chief Warlock. I am much obliged by your permission to ask questions."

"Very well; Chief Prosecutrix Crompton, please proceed. There will be no rebuttal from the defendant. As Chief Warlock, I appoint Mr. Ollivander to consider the case. He shall cross-examine the evidence."

"By your permission, Chief Warlock, the Prosecution will proceed with the case. The demands an open court interrogation of Ms. Umbridge under the influence of Veritaserum, to aid the evidence collected."

Dumbledore called for a vote by the Wizengamot. It was amusing to see how people would throw one of their own under the bus when faced with the choice of letting their positions, safety and beliefs go. Every single wand was up in the air, lit to show that the member of the Wizengamot across all political spectra were firmly on the side of the Prosecution against the hag. It did not bother Harry in the slightest. If at all, it only amused him a bit as he thought of the reactions of the Dark faction and other Death Eaters when Lucius' involvement would be brought to light. It would be hilarious surely.

The rest of the trial was a boring farce. Hag Umbridge was dosed up to the gills with Veritaserum and pumped for answers. Harry thought he should pay Rita more. It was a work of investigative art. The evidence was overwhelming, and by the end of the trial in which Mr. Ollivander only offered token resistance, both the Hag and the Ministerial Buffoon looked to have their careers destroyed completely. What did intrigue Harry was the fact that both Chief Prosecutrix Crompton and Amelia had steered the evidence and the flow of the case away from the Death Eaters assiduously. He trusted Amelia, and from what he had observed of Lady Crompton, and also her husband, Lord Desmond, they seemed to be proud, fair and unyielding. Then again Gran had been particularly gleeful to learn that Lady Crompton would be leading the case for the prosecution, and indeed, she had done a wonderful job against Umbridge. Harry knew that Amelia and Gran would not allow Lucius and his cronies to get away so easily. That meant that the whole agenda of steering the arguments and evidence of the Umbridge case away from them had a reason. Perhaps, they feared retaliation from elements of the Death Eater faction till they brought Lucius to court.

At last the trial was done. "All those in favour of the verdict that Ms. Umbridge is guilty of her crimes, please light your wands and raise them." More than 80% of the people did that.

"Very well; Chief Prosecutrix, what punishment do you propose?"

"Given the way she has brought shame to the Ministry with her actions, Azkaban would have been a given. But her behaviour has shown that she is beyond help. She is a common criminal, a murderer, rapist, and a fraudster. The Prosecution proposes the Dementor's kiss, administered immediately, with the Wizengamot as the witness." Harry had a hard time not cheering about this.

This was a pivotal point for the day. If Dumbledore opposed this, it was the 'other Albus' that had come. If he did not, it was the 'real Albus'. "Is the Prosecution entirely unanimous about this proposal, with no dissenter?"

"No, Chief Warlock. There is no dissenter. It is a unanimous proposal from the Prosecution."

"Honourable members of the Wizengamot, is there any reason why she should not be given to a dementor, except humanitarian grounds?"

Nobody spoke up.

"I call the Wizengamot's vote on this matter. Those who are in support of the punishment raise your wand and spray blue sparks. If you are against it, red sparks. Else, abstain."

This was the litmus test, so to speak. Dumbledore had to abstain, as he could only vote in case there was a tie. But he had the comments thereafter to show his position. The proposal received overwhelming, if not unanimous support. There was a smattering of red sparks, but it was nothing to be worried about.

"Then it is with great sorrow that I must ask for this punishment to be carried out. While Ms. Umbridge had the right to life, she tore it away from others and thus, no longer deserves the right. Her soul will be lost forever, and that is the price of her actions. Carry out the punishment." The 'real Albus' was the one present.

It was the most gruesome sight ever. A petrified Umbridge was levitated into the enclosure around the Dementors, and then the petrifaction was released. The two Dementors toyed with her, making her shriek and writhe before a dementor grabbed her face by its scaly hands and pulled her off the ground, drawing a slow rattling breath. It was like watching a rat bitten by a poisonous snake in the last throes of life. She squirmed, writhed, flailed and struggled before a small pinkish sphere of light came out her mouth and was devoured by the dementor. It was the last of Dolores Umbridge. She went slack instantaneously, and then slumped inside the enclosure. There was no expression on her face. Harry tried to quash the horror and terror that he felt at that. He felt guilty for being the one responsible for her state. But as he looked across the room to Mrs Smith, the only newblood member of the hall, the feeling receded exponentially. The vile brute of a woman would never run the concentration camps ever again. He decided that he had helped several newbloods live. He had helped save several lives. He had ensured, that, one more of those that would be a threat to his Hermione, was now less than a footnote. Dolores Umbridge was a threat that had been eliminated. And in that, Harry found solace. It would never matter that he had seen this terrible scene. All that mattered was that his actions had helped clean the society of a terrible stain on its very fabric.

"The Wizengamot now adjourns for a short recess. We shall reconvene after exactly thirty minutes."

Harry was no stranger to witnessing death. He had seen too many of those that he was close to, die in battle. This though was the first execution he had ever witnessed. With more effort that he normally required he summoned his Patroni, making the people of the alliance gasp at the power, as well as with relief. "Dolores Umbridge is dead," he said, and sent of Padfoot to Sirius, Firewing to Gringotts, and Prongs and Mione to his friends. They would be with Hagrid- another who wouldn't be persecuted by the evil hag.

Harry kept close to Augusta as she talked to people around them. More than once Harry was swamped with requests to see the Patroni. So just before they were all seated, Harry sent the four animals soaring through his allies, bolstering their spirits. Gran looked like a woman who was really showing of her grandson to her peers. There was a silent agreement between Reginald Dearborn and Augusta that they would show off Neville when they could bring the Heirs. Heirs were never allowed at trials.

When the session would reconvene at quarter to three, Harry would be ready for action. In the case of both Lucius and the oath ceremony as Lord of Houses, he would be required. Amelia had told him why they had kept things separate. Dumbledore wouldn't have had too many qualms lying about Harry's presence, and it could have destroyed his credibility, which would have had a negative effect on their crusade against the Death Eaters. While neither cared about that man, it wasn't the time to air dirty linen in public. Amelia would imply that she had had Harry brought over from Hogwarts with Minerva's knowledge for the case against Lucius, as the Transfiguration Professor was a witness, along with the Weasley couple. Ron and Ginny would have their statements- taken earlier by Kingsley Shacklebolt- submitted to the court, but would not be present as there were four adult witnesses to the incident. As the oath would be the last part of the day, it would mean that Dumbledore would have no means to try things.

* * *

The session started again at exactly quarter to three. After attendance again, the doors were sealed.

The Court Announcer started his spiel. "Hear ye, hear ye! The 11664th session of the Wizengamot resumes after an intermission on this day the 22nd of September, 1993, Autumnal Equinox, by law, by oath and by tradition. The morning session has seen the conviction and sentencing of Dolores Umbridge. The officials and aides for the ensuing proceedings are as follows: In the Chair, Chief Warlock Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. In the jury are Madam Griselda Marchbanks, Deputy Chief Witch; the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Oswald Fudge and his Heads of Department; Order of Merlin, First Class Awardee Wilhelmina Cromwell, and the brethren and ladies of the Hall. Court Announcer: Richard Leyland. Court Scribe: Artorius Goldman."

"Thank you, Announcer Leyland," Dumbledore intoned. "Scribe Goldman, state the next order of business." The scribe passed another sheet to the Announcer to read out.

"The next order of business is the resolution of a complaint by one Mister Hadrian James Potter, represented by the Prosecution, against one Lucius Malfoy for attempt to murder. Presenting the case for the prosecution are Chief Prosecutrix Lady Elizabeth Crompton and Director Amelia Bones of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, along with Mr. Thaddeus Doge, Mr. Marius Greengrass and Mr. Theodore Tonks, Litigators at law. Representing the respondent is Mr. Farrell Gibson, Litigator at law."

"Scribe Goldman, please take note that I, Chief Warlock Dumbledore recuse myself from my position for the duration of this case. Please also note that I request to be addressed as Headmaster Dumbledore for the same duration. I stand as witness for the prosecution."

"It is so noted, Headmaster Dumbledore. The case will now be chaired by Madam Griselda Marchbanks, acting Chief Witch." A frenzied buzzing ensued, as people started discussing the significance of Dumbledore's actions in hushed tones.

Madam Marchbanks took over the Chair. "Honourable members of the Wizengamot please maintain silence!" she croaked, banging the gavel.

The Announcer started again. "On this day, the 22nd of September, 1993, the session records the case of Mr. Hadrian James Potter v/s Mr. Lucius Malfoy. Both the complainant and respondent are present. Witnesses for the prosecution: Professor Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts; Professor Minerva Rowena McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress; Mr. Arthur Septimus and Mrs. Margaret Muriel Weasley. The case awaits resolution."

"Bring in the accused."

A one handed Lucius was led into the court by Aurors Shacklebolt and Scrimgeour. Harry had to try and look a bit scared when he was actually cheering internally. Lucius was strapped onto the criminal's chair, and Harry could see resignation, hatred, shock and arrogance all battling for space on his face.

"Are you Lucius Abraxas Malfoy of the Noble House of Malfoy?"

Lucius Malfoy was many things, but a graceless person he was not. "I am, Chief Witch."

"The accused has been identified. The Prosecution may state the case."

"The Prosecution asks the Chair to recognise Chief Prosecutrix Lady Elizabeth Crompton and Director Amelia Bones of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement as representatives; and with Mr. Thaddeus Doge, Mr. Marius Greengrass and Mr. Theodore Tonks, Litigators at law as Mr. Potter's personal representatives."

"The Chair recognises the representatives."

"Thank you, Chief Witch." Lady Crompton then delivered the opening statement. "Lords, Ladies, and honourable members of the Wizengamot, we are gathered here to enumerate and determine the crimes of Lucius Malfoy of the House of Malfoy. We all know how, despite the accusations of being a Death Eater, Mr. Malfoy was projected as an upstanding member of the magical society, and never brought to book regarding any activities he may or may not have undertaken as a member of the terrorist organisation..."

"Please note the objection, Madam Chief Witch. My client will not stand such blatant character assassination. I believe the Chief Prosecutrix is romanticising the subject and deviating from the case."

"Madam Chief Witch, given the charges we wish to press, this background and history of the respondent's criminal history is imperative. Once there was evidence of Mr. Malfoy's participation in Death Eater activities, the case passed from being a matter of criminal intent between two individuals to bordering as a matter of National Magical Security also."

"There was never any proof of such activities!"

"There was never any investigation into the matter, Litigator Gibson. But there is now."

"Objection overruled!" declared Madam Marchbanks.

"Much obliged, Madam Chief Witch. That is very much the first charge- Lucius Malfoy is a Death Eater. For the next charge, which incidentally kick-started investigations against Mr. Malfoy, I call upon Mr. Thaddeus Doge."

"Thank you, Chief Prosecutrix. As the subjects to the primary statement of the case, I request the court to recognise the complainant Mr. Hadrian James Potter and witnesses for the prosecution: Professor Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts; Professor Minerva Rowena McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress; Mr. Arthur Septimus and Mrs. Margaret Muriel Weasley. Two more witnesses are minors and therefore will not be named. Statements have been retrieved from them by Auror Shacklebolt. They will not be presented to the court. On the night of the 28th of May, after an incident at Hogwarts, Mr. Malfoy when asked by the Chief Warlock-Headmaster Dumbledore – to give oath that he had not smuggled a dark object to frame Arthur Weasley, fired the Killing Curse at Mr. Potter. Each of the witnesses has provided a memory of the incident. I request the Chief Witch to allow the usage of the court pensieve."

"Objection, Madam Chief Witch. Memories are not admissible as evidence in court."

"Madam Chief Witch, these memories are not being purported as evidence. These will help my esteemed colleague to understand the situation properly."

Gibson flushed. "I retract my objection, Madam Chief Witch."

And so, the seven memories were viewed turn by turn, and in every way that could be perceived, it was pretty damning for Lucius. People were shocked at Harry's nonchalantly violent actions, and there were suppressed sniggers at him telling Dumbledore to 'shut the fuck up'. As all points of view tallied word for word, scene for scene, there was no reason to wave the statements off. When the viewing was finally done, Madam Marchbanks looked at them all in turn.

"Litigator Gibson, are there any questions that you would like to ask off the witnesses and complainant?"

"Yes Madam Chief Witch. My first questions would be to Mr. Potter." Harry stood and approached the witness box nervously. "Mr. Potter, are you willing to swear that the incident happened as those... _memories_ showed us?"

Harry looked at the man, and took the oath, "I, Hadrian James Potter, do affirm and swear on my life, magic and soul that the memories submitted for perusal to the Wizengamot are true. Furthermore, I swear to answer all questions put to me truthfully. So I swear, so shall it be!" This was a power game, and the best way to show power was by displaying his Patroni. "Do you have any further questions, Mr. Gibson?"

"Yes. What drove you to believe that my client had placed the dark object in question in Ms. Weasley's belongings?"

"Before the beginning of last year, the Weasleys- with whom I had spent the summer- and I had gone to Diagon Alley. There was Lockhart having his book signing and stuff. For some reason, the two elder family men were embroiled in a brawl. Ginevra's cauldron, which doubled up as her carrier, was upset. When we were putting things together, Mr. Malfoy took up an inordinate amount of time with one of her books. That was suspicious, but I had no way to dig up Ginevra's books and find out what was going on."

"THAT DOES NOT PROVE THAT HE PLACED THE DIARY IN THERE? DOES IT, BOY? HE MIGHT'VE JUST BEEN CHECKING THE SORRY STATE OF THE BOOK THAT THE WEASLEYS COULD PROVIDE THEIR CHILD." snapped Gibson. The word 'BOY' spoken as Vernon would have sent a frisson of anger through Harry. He had to destroy this git.

"No it doesn't Gibson."

"Then are you in the habit of making accusations against upstanding gentlemen? Are you in the habit of causing bodily harm to them?" Gibson asked seemingly happy that he had trapped the Boy-Who-Lived.

Harry smiled very predatorily. "I would answer those questions, Gibson, if your client would answer mine. Is your upstanding gentleman of a client in the habit of firing killing curses on underage wizards?"

"It is not proved, boy!" Gibson sneered.

"Then prove that I blasted Lucius' hand off, Gibson."

"What does that mean? The memories showed that you did that! And remember you swore a magical oath that the memories were true," the lawyer said condescendingly.

Harry stared open-mouthed at the man. Was he really so foolish or was he trying to insult Harry? Gibson's next actions told their rather amusing story. He turned to the Wizengamot and said jovially, "See? Nothing to say is there, Mr. Potter?"

"No. I really have nothing to say except this, Gibson. Are you really foolish, or do you think I am foolish and want to insult me? You are basing your argument off memories which are- by your own admission- inadmissible as evidence in the courts of Law. You are trying to prove that I destroyed old Lucy's hand based on them. And you are trying to wriggle out his arse from the case by disputing the authenticity of the very evidence that you are trying to use to support your client? Ever heard of irony? Quit toying, man! All you did is tried to prove that your foolish idiot of a client is such a weakling that he lost his arm when I retaliated **_after_** he tried to kill me. You just damned your own client just so that you could have a chance at trying to confuse me? Blimey! You must hate Lucius Malfoy. Who made you a lawyer, man?"

And Harry was really confused. Why was this man underestimating him and the case so much?

The entire Hall burst out into laughter at that- including the prosecution, witnesses and the Chief Witch. Evidently, they all concurred with him about Gibson underestimating him.

"Are you done asking the complainant questions, Litigator Gibson?" A flushed Gibson could only nod. "Very well; Litigator Doge, please proceed."

"Thank you, Madam Chief Witch. Once the events as seen from the memories took place- and I wish to reiterate that we do not place those memories as evidence- Director Amelia Bones and Aurors Hestia Jones and Herbert Adams arrived on the scene. They provided first aid after to the wound my client cauterised, and took away Mr. Malfoy to Ministry holding cells. Three wands were found on Mr. Malfoy's person. Each was checked by the Department of Mysteries and there is clear evidence of a Killing Curse fired from Mr. Malfoy's primary wand. The time of this spell's usage was found to be seventeen minutes past one on the morning of the 29th of May 1993. A strip-report of spells used by Mr. Malfoy from each wand shows several counts of usage of Unforgivables. The Department of Magical Law Enforcement call register shows a time of nineteen minutes past one on the 29th of May 1993. Strip searches of wands of all witnesses showed that the only spell fired in the intervening period was by our client Mr. Hadrian James Potter at 17 minutes past one on the morning of the 29th of May 1993. The prosecution requests permission to submit the copies of the investigative reports and entries, records of wand usage by the Department of Mysteries, a copy of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement call register, and an addendum of comments and conjecture regarding this charge to the Wizengamot and the Chief Witch; all of these documents are worth three years in the high security cell of Azkaban per count by themselves."

"Permission is granted."

"Much obliged, Madam Chief Witch. It is a fact that it is not possible to apparate from or into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, henceforth to be called Hogwarts for brevity. It is also a fact that it takes at the very least twelve minutes to reach the Great Door of Hogwarts from its gates by foot, or seven if Thestral drawn carriages are used. The Apparition Trace obtained from the Department of Regulation of Magical Transport gives clear indication of an apparition from the registered location of Malfoy Manor in Wiltshire to the gates of Hogwarts at four minutes to one on the morning of the 29th May 1993. Further, it has been established that no carriage was sent to receive any guest that night. Therefore Mr. Malfoy must have travelled to the Door by foot. May this be cross-checked with Mr. Malfoy?" Malfoy answered that it was true. "The altercation took place in Professor McGonagall's office. Investigations have established that it takes a minimum of three minutes to reach the office from the Great Door. Mr Malfoy therefore, had to be in the office no earlier than eleven past one. This proves that the Killing curse was fired with intent to harm one of the complainant or the witnesses."

"That is if he fired the curse at all!" replied Gibson.

"Unless you are implying that this is a conspiracy against Mr. Malfoy, Litigator Gibson, there is ample proof that it was Mr. Malfoy that fired the curse. There is no proof to the contrary. The memories show that Mr. Malfoy was never attacked. The retaliation was with a wand. And the strip search of the wands, except that of Headmaster Dumbledore showed that there was no use of the disarming spell by anyone. Since the Professor's wand doesn't respond to such searches, we have an Oath by the Headmaster that he did not participate in any sort of altercation against Mr. Malfoy at all.

Gibson then proceeded to cross-examine all the witnesses, his frustration increasing as all of them told the same story. The truth was that Lucius had been foolish enough to do something that foolish, and Cornelius was being systematically destroyed. So he was not going to make much headway anyway.

At the end, Litigator Doge made one final request. "I request access to The Book of Magical Bonds, Oaths and Debts."

"Permission is granted."

A large tome was brought in within a span of five minutes, and led onto the table in front of the scribe.

"Scribe Goldman, please note the Life Debt to Mr. Hadrian James Potter owed by Mr. Draco Regulus Malfoy."

The scribe took note of it, and the passed the sheet after making a copy to Madam Marchbanks. The Announcer read out the debt to the court.

"The claim for the Debt of Life accrued by Heir Malfoy to Mr. Potter is now read to this august gathering. **"I, Hadrian James Potter, call upon Magic herself to adjudicate my claim of a Life-Debt owed to me by Draco Regulus Malfoy for my actions regarding the slaying of a Basilisk that threatened life at the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Draco Malfoy, henceforth, you shall not even think the words such as mud-blood, half-blood, blood traitor and any other racially discriminatory and derogatory terms. You'll stand near the podium and publicly apologise to every person you have so denigrated. Should you come across anyone participating in such behaviour, you will strive actively to act against it. Your father will have to speak the truth regarding the Diary he slipped into innocent hands, as well as providing all possible information regarding any and all malpractices in the Ministry, including corruption up to any level of office truthfully. He has to, provide any information about all past and present Death Eaters and also about the management and organisation of the terrorist organisation- including how the Mark is** ** _earned;_** **whether the mark allows the Death Eaters to betray their master; whether it is possible for a marked Death Eater to spy against Voldemort or renounce or betray him in anyway and still live. He will have to plead guilty to the charge of firing a killing curse at me. You'll renounce all ties to Lucius Abraxas Malfoy, as well as his ideals and teachings. You will not retaliate through attacks on anyone, directly or indirectly, through your peers or through your father's contacts. You will bring all attacks by your Housemates to the notice of the Heads of Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. You will not report to, or seek support from the Head of Slytherin, who also so very conveniently happens to be your godfather. Should you even think of insulting anyone, or even tacitly supporting another person supporting Tom Marvolo Riddle's views on blood purity, your magic, life and your line and family magic will be forfeit to the House of Potter, and no child will ever be sired from or by anyone who shall claim the name of Malfoy. So I claim, so you shall accept.** ""

There was pin-drop silence in the court. This was a perfectly claimed debt which had the chance of cleansing Wizarding Britain. Then, someone started clapping. It was Madam Turnbull. The claps and applause started taking hold across the room as faces paled severely. Lucius' face became paler than his hair. Harry bowed to the room at Thaddeus' prompt.

When nearly five minutes later the applause died, in spite of Madam Marchbanks' half hearted attempts to calm them all, she asked Lucius gravely, "How does the respondent plead?"

There was a long silence. It seemed interminable, as Gibson and Malfoy pored over the sheet on which the debt claim had been written, trying to find a way around it. After nearly fifteen minutes of painfully tense attempts, Gibson slumped and surrendered.

"My client pleads guilty."

Amelia couldn't control the small, "YES!" of delight that she emitted. Cornelius looked greener than his stupid bowler hat. Augusta reached over and thumped Harry's back. It was an excellently played ploy, and it had torn the very existence of the Death Eater faction. Over the next one and half hour, Lucius spilled everything that he had ever done. He spilled the beans on every single D.E. he knew. He destroyed half the Ministry. He exhausted himself of every bit of information he had in a bid to save his son. All that was left of Lucius Abraxas Malfoy, proud pureblood Lord was a sobbing, crying man who had clearly lost everything. Harry felt perverse pleasure as he watched the scene. It was hateful behaviour on his part, really, but these were the same people who would rule and drag down Britain if he had not returned in time and instead chosen to live on. It was their choice which would destroy them.

Once he was done, he was taken away. Finally Madam Marchbanks decreed. "Lucius Malfoy is an example of what choices do. While this court shall not decide on the punishment yet, proposals will be heard, unless either the defence or the prosecution as anything to add."

Amelia stepped forward. "Madam Marchbanks, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement requests leave to detain every member and check for the Dark Mark. Furthermore, we request that for security reasons, this session be deemed need to know. All those with Dark Marks will need to be grilled as Lucius was. I call upon Department of Mysteries Director Algernon Croaker to deliver the worst of today."

The language was ominous, informal and abused decorum, but Harry knowing what it was all about, stayed relaxed.

"The Department of Mysteries has studied the Dark Mark in depth. The worst news is that Lord Voldemort is not dead."

There were screams and protests from the whole crowd. Harry quickly wrote on a piece of parchment, "Every Dark Mark is a Horcrux" and passed it to Dumbledore. It would not do for the old man to have a cardiac arrest now. Dumbledore's eyes widened as he blanched and paled. He wrote in reply, "Meet me in my office. Bring Minerva along." "Saturday?" asked Harry in reply. The two shared a silent nod.

Croaker was an unspeakable. Flimsy inanities like procedure and decorum meant little to the Department of Mysteries when there was magic to be researched. "Lord Voldemort has performed the worst rituals of Necromancy. Everyone who bore the mark of their free will, tied their souls to him, and they have kept him alive. He has also performed other rituals, and the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and Department of Mysteries will be working to eliminate this problem. We request you to not panic, but to restart the use of all protections that were used during the last war." Every D.E. paled at that, evidently knowing what they were.

"Thank you Director Croaker. Thank you Chief Witch. That is all."

"No, sir, that is not all. What about people no longer within the auspices of the jurisdiction of the British Ministry? There are people like Igor Karkaroff who is, as of this moment the Headmaster of Durmstrang Institute of Sorcery. Are there extradition pacts and agreements with other magical government for such terrorists? Several may have gone under cover since the last war. It is absolutely necessary to eliminate such threats to the peace and sanctity of our society by whatever means possible," Harry interrupted. Croaker looked at him with an inscrutable expression, and then gave him a nod and a thumbs-up sign before leaving.

People remained in the hall as everyone was checked by Croaker and his people and all marked Death Eaters were detained, and Dumbledore and Marchbanks resumed their positions. It took an hour, an hour during which Harry spoke to his allies. It was then he understood why there was some distrust about him. Dumbledore had told them all, that, he had felt incapable of taking up his duties and did not want to be troubled by the matters of the alliance. So Harry spoke the exact truth, supported by Amelia and Augusta. There were cries of anger and disgust at Dumbledore's actions, but Harry convinced the allies, that, till the threat of Voldemort was gone forever, there would be nothing they could and should do about the old manipulative goat. Well he had a way to shock him, after all.

* * *

The session restarted finally. "Hear ye, hear ye! After the intervention as necessitated for security and law, the 11664th session resumes. A large part of this Court's membership has just been lost to criminal activities. They shall remain in special judicial remand and under the jurisdiction of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, by order of the Chief Warlock."

"Thank you, Announcer. Scribe Goldman, what is the next order of business?"

The announcer read of the sheet passed to him, "The next orders of business are: Declarations of two Houses regarding their Heir, followed by the Oaths of Lordship and office for four families, and the Declaration to the Heir of an Ancient and Most Noble House." Dumbledore smiled benevolently.

"Thank you Scribe Goldman. We shall start with the proceedings." Augusta and Reginald started off by declaring Neville their Heir. Reginald also declared Hermione as Daughter of House Dearborn. There was a smattering of congratulations before Harry summoned the Sword of Gryffindor into his right hand, and willed the ring to show itself. The show would start now.

"Who asks to take his seat on this August body?" asked Dumbledore.

"I do." Dumbledore froze.

"Harry... this-"

"Please administer the Oath, Chief Warlock!" barked Harry and Augusta in unison. Dumbledore seemed to dither, so Harry ordered, "Vassal Dumbledore, your liege Lord orders you to perform your duties!"

That jerked Dumbledore into action. "Very well; repeat after me. I,"

"- Hadrian James Potter-Gryffindor,"

"-last son and head of house and Lord of the-"

"-Most Noble House of Gryffindor-"

"-do hereby vow to serve the magical realm of Britannia, with justice, with compassion, with wisdom, with honour, and with valour. I take this seat as a symbol of my duties to the people of Britain. So I swear, so shall it be!"

"I, Albus, Wulfric Percival Brian Dumbledore, Chief Warlock, witness the calling of Hadrian James Potter-Gryffindor, to take the Seat of the House of Gryffindor, by blood, by law and by oath."

"I, Hadrian James Potter-Gryffindor, Head and Lord of House Gryffindor, swear to act as ordained and required by my promise to the magical realm of Britannia in the name of justice, law and magic, and accept the Seat of the House of Gryffindor by blood, by law and by oath. So I swear, so shall it be!"

A new seat, higher than any other, rose on the highest tier of the Hall. It had roaring lions as armrests. It bore a plaque at its side, bearing the inscription 'Most Noble House of Gryffindor'.

Harry took the seat, and raised the Sword, striking a truly powerful pose (he had allowed his magic to flare, and had passed some of it into the sword unconsciously) as the court photographer took pictures. There was boisterous and enthusiastic applause. Harry nodded to the congregation, before sitting in the chair.

It took Dumbledore some time to gather his wits. He then gave a resigned sigh. He knew what was coming next. "Who asks to take his seat on this August body?"

"I do," Harry said again, with the Potter Ring now visible.

"Repeat. I,"

"- Hadrian James Potter,"

"-last son and head of house and Lord of the-"

"-Ancient and Most Noble House of Potter-"

"-do hereby vow to serve the magical realm of Britannia, with justice, with compassion, with wisdom, with honour, and with valour. I take this seat as a symbol of my duties to the people of Britain. So I swear, so shall it be!"

"I, Albus, Wulfric Percival Brian Dumbledore, Chief Warlock, witness the calling of Hadrian James Potter, to take the Seat of the House of Potter, by blood, by law and by oath."

"I, Hadrian James Potter, Head and Lord of House Potter, swear to act as ordained and required by my promise to the magical realm of Britannia in the name of justice, law and magic, and accept the Seat of the House of Potter by blood, by law and by oath. So I swear, so shall it be!"

A seat arose next to where Gran sat, and Harry went down the aisle to it. Harry and the Court Photographer quickly put the show on the road.

There were two more Houses and one Heir declaration. Dumbledore couldn't, for the life of him, think which Houses these would be. "Who asks to take his seat on this August body?"

"I do," Harry said again. This shocked the Hall. Three Houses to Harry's name and two of them were Most Noble. This was power. The Peverell Ring of the Elder Dragons was now visible.

"Repeat. I,"

"- Hadrian James Potter-Peverell,"

"-last son and head of house and Lord of the-" Dumbledore shuddered and stuttered as the implications of this permeated through his head.

"-Ancient and Noble House of Peverell-"

"-do hereby vow to serve the magical realm of Britannia, with justice, with compassion, with wisdom, with honour, and with valour. I take this seat as a symbol of my duties to the people of Britain. So I swear, so shall it be!"

"I, Albus, Wulfric Percival Brian Dumbledore, Chief Warlock, witness the calling of Hadrian James Potter-Peverell, to take the Seat of the House of Peverell, by blood, by law and by oath."

"I, Hadrian James Potter-Peverell, Head and Lord of House Peverell, swear to act as ordained and required by my promise to the magical realm of Britannia in the name of justice, law and magic, and accept the Seat of the House of Peverell by blood, by law and by oath. So I swear, so shall it be!"

The Hall gasped as one, as a seat rose in the Neutrals and Harry took it, once again posing for a photograph.

Dumbledore was now pretty sure what the next House would be, and he wondered what the repercussions would be. "Who asks to take his seat on this August body?"

"I do," Harry said again. He willed the Slytherin Ring to now be visible, and repeated "I do" in Parseltongue. And this time there were more than just gasps. There was an angry buzzing and rasping of whispers. Dumbledore had to silence the members with a noise-maker charm.

"Repeat. I,"

"- Hadrian James Potter-Slytherin," (there was an outcry of shock and revolt which Dumbledore silenced and Harry ignored)

"-last son and head of house and Lord of the-"

"-Most Noble House of Slytherin-"

"-do hereby vow to serve the magical realm of Britannia, with justice, with compassion, with wisdom, with honour, and with valour. I take this seat as a symbol of my duties to the people of Britain. So I swear, so shall it be!"

"I, Albus, Wulfric Percival Brian Dumbledore, Chief Warlock, witness the calling of Hadrian James Potter, to take the Seat of the House of Slytherin, by conquest, by blood, by law and by oath."

"I, Hadrian James Potter-Slytherin, Head and Lord of House Slytherin, swear to act as ordained and required by my promise to the magical realm of Britannia in the name of justice, law and magic, and accept the Seat of the House of Slytherin by blood, by law and by oath. So I swear, so shall it be!" He had repeated each part of the Oath in English as well as Parseltongue.

And to everyone's immense surprise Slytherin's seat rose right next to Gryffindor's in the 'light', looking just like any other, and unadorned. Harry took the seat with a smirk. _That_ photograph adroitly caught the look of mischief in his eyes.

By now Dumbledore was weary and looking his age. "Who claims to be the Heir to a peer of this House?"

"I do." And then it was bedlam. People were shouting, for none of them had made him Heir. When they finally silenced themselves of their own accord, Harry responded, "All will be made known, and soon." The oath for the Heir was not for a formal position, as the Heir was to represent and perform actions if and only if authorised to do so by the reigning Lord.

"I, Hadrian James Potter-Black, by oath, by law and by blood, with the blessings and orders of the incumbent Lord Black, affirm my position as a son and the custodian Heir of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black, and affirm that I bear the Heirs' ring, as ordained and ordered by my Lord Black." He showed off the Heirs' Ring to the astounded Hall and Dumbledore. "I swear to remain faithful to the House of Black, and to uphold the orders of the Lord of the House to the very end. So I swear, so shall it be!"

Harry, as was the norm for him, had achieved the impossible. He had silenced the Wizengamot out of shock, awe and surprise, twice in a single day. Those that followed the politics of their world realised the power that Harry now wielded. As the Lord of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Potter and the Most Noble House of Gryffindor (each of which was expected), he had power and prestige. As the Lord of the Ancient and Noble House of Peverell, he had the power of politics and legend. But as the Lord of the Most Noble House of Slytherin and the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black, he was a person with a seat in each fragment of the House. More importantly, how was he the Heir to the House of the one who betrayed his parents to Voldemort?

Harry took this silence to say, "Respected Lords and Ladies and honourable officials of the Wizengamot, I am honoured to be accepted into the seats of my forefathers to help uphold the law and justice. With the Chief Warlock's permission, may I proceed with the announcements?"

"Please make the announcements, Lord Potter."

"Much obliged, Chief Warlock. The first announcement is for the Houses of Potter, and Gryffindor. In the event of my death before begetting Heirs, Mr. Longbottom, Neville Francis, my brother by blood, and son of House Potter, is my chosen Heir to both the Houses. The House Line of Slytherin will be considered defunct."

"So noted," said Dumbledore.

"Furthermore, Ms. Granger, Hermione Jean, Mr. Granger, David Charles, and Mrs. Granger, Jean Emily, are all protectorates of the Houses of Potter, Gryffindor, Peverell and Slytherin. Any attack on them will be considered an attack on all four Houses. Further, Ms. Lovegood, Luna Celeste, is declared a friend of my four Houses, and the same conditions apply.

"I give the Ministry notice to vacate the Potter cottage in Godric's Hollow within two weeks time. It is non-negotiable. I also demand rent at twenty galleons a month to be paid immediately. Nobody had any business touching what had once been my home. I have of course called home all heirlooms that might have resided in the house and were unlawfully taken by anyone, and that includes the Chief Warlock – even though he may have only been safeguarding them. The Cottage shall cease to be a tourist attraction immediately. I do not trust the Ministry to take action appropriately. So should this not be done within the next two weeks, Gringotts will be given carte blanche to execute every clause their stipulated punishment against the crime of theft performed by the Ministry against the House of Potter. You are warned.

"All fantasy-book publishers or product-makers, which have fraudulently used me as a character or claim to have had their products endorsed by me, are hereby served a defamation notice. All the books have made money off my misfortune. That stops as of Yesterday. The Ancient and Most Noble House of Potter is not something to ogle and gawk at. As I have verified that the Potter accounts had not been contacted and that no legal contracts existed between the House of Potter and any profiteers, I also take this opportunity to serve the notice against all publishers and product-makers for fraudulent business practices and for abuse of privacy of a minor.

"The next announcement pertains to the House of Black. By authority of the Lord Black, Mr. Malfoy, Lucius Abraxas and Mrs. Malfoy, Narcissa Adrianne, have their marriage annulled, on account of Mr. Malfoy being found to be an oath-breaker, due to his services to Voldemort and being branded like cattle. Should Miss Black, formerly Mrs. Malfoy, be found to bear his mark, she will be cast out of the House of Black, along with her son, Draco Regulus. The Malfoy line is forever cast out of the House of Black. It may now only be reclaimed by the incumbent Lord Black if he so decides to revive it.

"By Authority of the Lord Black, Mr. Lestrange, Rudolphus Brutus and Mrs. Lestrange, Bellatrix Callidora, have their marriage annulled, on account of Mr. Lestrange being found to be an oath-breaker, due to his services to Voldemort and being branded like cattle. Miss Black is cast out of the House of Black for bearing the Mark.

"By Authority of Lord Black, Mrs Tonks nee Black, Andromeda Dorea, is reinstated to the House of Black. Mr Tonks, Theodore Edward, is formally acknowledged as a son of the House of Black by law. An appropriate dowry of twenty five thousand galleons will be paid to him."

"By order of the Lord Director of Gringotts', I ask Mr. Dirk Creswell to read the letter of instatement to this Hall."

Creswell took over the proceedings. "Hear ye, Hear ye! By order of His Royal Highness, the Lord-Director Ragnok Goldblood the seventh, the wizard, Hadrian James Potter, is on this fifteenth day of the month of Cridliand, year of the Axe-wielder (second day of June, 1993 by human reckoning), is named Friend of the Goblin Nation. Furthermore, by warrior courtesies and by virtue of his observance of the seven pillars of Garnarukran (Goblin) society, as also his status as the Great One and the Great Elder spirit wielder, he will henceforth be known as Lord Griffinheart. By the spirit of Rewalka, let this be known that Lord Griffinheart is one of The People, one of The Nation!"

Harry put his right fist to his heart and with a nod, repeated, "By the spirit of Rewalka- One of The People, One of The Nation!" He then turned to the court and, abruptly changing the plans and rules asked, "Honoured members of the Wizengamot, as One of The People, I would like to ask you all – do I now become a magical creature in your eyes? Will our Nation, a place where you keep and invest your gold in, be still treated as nothing more than a nation of substandard and subservient magic users? Do I now go under the purview of the Department of Control of Magical creatures? I stand at crossroads. The magical world has left me disillusioned. It offers me no incentive to accept it as it hasn't accepted me either. I have no reason to not choose to live my life as one of THE People."

Harry achieved a hat trick. The Wizengamot went deathly silent again. Harry had decided to use his fame for things he believed in. The Wizengamot was now faced with the most terrible thing to think of, particularly in the light of the declaration regarding the continued existence of Voldemort. People realised the implications of all that he was saying. He had effectively informally declared that he had no confidence in the Ministry as it were, and was calling due all past debts owed to him. Of course, there was the fact that most of the officials in the higher echelons of the Ministry were now under the scanner, both for corruption and for betrayal of four very powerful and angry families.

"You can't be serious about this!" Fudge shouted.

"Oh, I certainly am, Minister. Between corrupt government officials, people who sneer at the memory of my war heroine of a mother based upon the circumstances of her birth, and an uninterestingly stuck-in-the-mud society which shuns progress, there is nothing for me in this world, really, beyond learning to control my magic. I would put forward a Bill to change the contacts and office of Mr. Creswell - who as the Goblin Liaison is a member of the Department of the Control of Magical Creatures - to the Department of International Magical Co-operation. But what proof do I have that I should trust any of you to approve it? When you need laws to make you behave with even a shred of humanity, respect and honour, with even other humans - never mind other races - it really doesn't impress me much. Even I can see the way Mr. Crouch is reacting to the idea of having any meaningful contact with The Nation." People were by now actually looking at Harry with a little amount of pleading and fear, while glaring at the Minister and Crouch (wearing the expression of a person who had stepped in something nasty) at the same time.

Augusta came through for them. "Lord Potter, we appreciate your concerns. We look forward to your proposal for effecting this change. I hope you can give us the benefit of doubt."

"Madam Longbottom, you are one of the few individuals I personally, as well as, one of The Nation respect. It is upon your word that I shall deliver the proposal. I have every intention to see it through."

"Thank you for hearing me out, Lord Potter. We appreciate your concerns regarding our society. I request that we proceed with our session."

"Does anyone in this House dispute the Lordships and Heir's position?" Dumbledore asked into the tense silence that had followed Harry's proclamation.

Amelia rose. Harry knew what she was up to, for she had told him this before. It was their plan to put the case for Sirius in motion. "I have some questions, Chief Warlock."

"Please proceed with your questions, Director Bones," Dumbledore replied in resignation.

"Thank you, Chief Warlock. Lord Potter, how did you ever become the Lord of House Slytherin- a known Dark House, when we now know that the one, who was believed to be the Heir of Slytherin, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, is alive?"

"Lady-Regent Director Bones, I have successfully claimed the Lordship of the Most Noble House of Slytherin, by conquest. I believe that this means that Voldemort should have attacked me and I should have defeated him thrice in succession. I have done so, and I hope that the Wizengamot may be shown pensieve memories of my last two altercations with him when this discussion ends. However, there remains a small fact- the one called Lord Voldemort was never the Heir of Slytherin, whatever he proclaimed."

And Harry achieved silence for the fourth time that day.

"He was by rights, the Heir of the Peverells, of whom the Noble Salazar Slytherin was the heir. Contrary to popular belief, Salazar Slytherin was no pureblood snob, or a bigot. How could he have been, when his mother and wife of the Slytherin line were both muggleborn- or as he preferred, and as do I, newbloods?"

"But Salazar was a dark wizard!" someone shouted

"And what is the basis for that?"

"He bred a basilisk!" was the triumphant response as if that settled everything.

"Salazar bred a basilisk, yes, but Isaiah was supposed to be the mother protector of Hogwarts. Salazar had tasked her with protecting the students, and in his day, he let her into the Forbidden Forest at night to hunt- which is exactly why it was forbidden. Salazar and his brother in all but blood, Godric Gryffindor only wanted to protect **_all magic users!"_** The stress he used on the last three words wasn't lost. "If I could have, I would have tried to save Isaiah. However, when Voldemort, who was at school fifty years ago, killed a girl by enslaving her, the extremely intelligent and good snake that she was, she started feeling guilt. It drove her mad. And I know this because my ring, which is sentient, spoke to me. And however amusing this may seem, Salazar and Godric were pranksters. I suppose Professor Dumbledore might have been reminded of my father and his friends, or the Prewett twins, or even the Weasley twins." There was a slight sob and chuckle from Molly. "The single line- "Godric and Salazar fought and Salazar left" is simply foolish. Yes they did fight- it was what one would call a friendly prank war, a last one, which Salazar lost, and Godric teased that Salazar was getting old. Given the fact that Salazar was one hundred and forty, it was true, and Salazar took it to heart and left- to find new teachers who would continue the legacy of the Founders. Do you wish to ask anything else, Chief Bones?"

"How are you the Heir of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black?"

"I am much obliged to Director Bones for asking this question. By Laws of Succession, the Head of House could appoint anyone through whom the blood of the House courses, as the Heir. The late Lady Dorea Potter was formerly known as Dorea Black, the youngest sister of the late Lord Arcturus Black. That apart, my magically sworn Godfather had blood-adopted me. The Ritual of the Heirs' Ring was performed in Gringotts. My godfather has decided not to take his seat in this Hall until the situation regarding Sirius Black is resolved. In the communication I received from Lord Black in which I was told about the adoption, he notes with utmost vexation, that Sirius Black did not receive a trial at all from this August body. He further notes that he fears that it was a political ploy by people like Lucius Malfoy to undermine the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black. Sirius Black, as the communication said, killed eighty-six Death Eaters during his time as an Auror till his arrest. I have authority to lodge a complaint on behalf of Lord Black, the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black and Sirius Black, Auror of the British Magical Government. I request that this gathering note that without a trial, Sirius Black cannot be proven guilty. This is treachery to the House of Black."

"Ah! The wonders of implications!" thought Amelia, Marius, Thaddeus and Ted, almost in unison. The way Harry had replied, it seemed as if the 'communication' he received was not in person. And indeed, most of the hall had thought that there was some other Lord Black who was light, unlike the traitor Sirius Black – though even that was in doubt. An angry buzzing filled the Hall as the boy-who-lived spoke out for a fair trial to Sirius Black. People were reacting exactly as Harry had hoped – many felt that if one upstanding pureblood could be treated that way, so could others. The guilt of Sirius Black was in contention. But people had started to question. There were voices of dissension by the Minister and Crouch, but Hadrian chose to not dignify those with any answers. The session ended soon after, without any dramatics of any sort. Maybe in another life, Harry would have transformed into Firewing and taken down Crouch before getting the Garnarukran to bring in Pettigrew and clearing Sirius' name once and for all. But Harry was not a fool. He had to lead the Wizengamot on a merry chase, and given that Sirius was for all purposes, free and safe. More importantly, if things came to such a pass that he was in danger, Sirius could protect himself. It was true that he had to be within Potter properties, but he had very 'loving' company as far as Amelia went. The old dog wouldn't be physically and mentally stable enough to do much for at least a year anyway, and he knew that- Harry was still sending him a Hamper every three days. So Sirius had the chance to recuperate.

Cornelius Fudge made spirited attempts to talk to Harry, for even though the man had been largely silent, he knew that Harry knew who his supporters were. Even though, Harry had not come out and said that his houses would not support either side explicitly, openly, nor did he speak out that his five Houses had no confidence in the incumbent government, the implications were clear. Cornelius saw himself dropping down the power index very fast, as several of his Ministry supporters and allies in different camps saw the cold glare Harry sent his way and politely rebuffed any attempt at conversation before patently ignoring him. Harry did know how to fight a cold war, but this was frigid.

Several Neutral and Light families often hung back together for impromptu discussions and light-hearted debates, and they ganged up on Harry, trying to get to know this new kid-Lord of four families better. Harry impressed them by being polite yet evasively understated in his answers, very much to Thaddeus' approval. The members flitted between each other every now and then, switching between groups and matters of discussions.

Mr. Weasley was troubled for some reason. "Harry you said that YKW wasn't the Heir of Slytherin."

"Yes sir."

"But You-Know-Who is a Parselmouth!" he protested. "It only passed through family bloodlines!"

"So am I, Mr. Weasley, and unfortunately, I don't know about my parents or grandparents enough to know whether they were Parselmouths or not. And as far as Voldemort is concerned, I never said anything about him not being born from Slytherin's bloodline. Salazar Slytherin had, during his lifetime, also been Lord Peverell. It was the Gaunts, who came from the Peverells who were blood snobs. The Slytherin line died out a long time ago- by conquest into the Peverell, or Gaunt line. But they were never accepted by the family ring, because they were treacherous to Salazar's principles. They lost the Peverell name because they were treacherous to the principles of the original Peverells also. For all intents and purposes, Voldemort has never had the name of any old, respectable family. Why, when he terrorised this country, he was using a completely made up name meaning 'flight-from-death'! And the reason for that is that he is no Lord Anything. I tell you this not because I want to set the cat among the pigeons, but because this is an enemy that we will have to deal with sooner rather than later. Always know your enemy. People need to think of what they seem to be afraid of, and analyse it before fearing him."

Lord Edgbaston looked at the boy who was telling them things that they should've known before. "Are you telling me he is not powerful?"

"No! Voldemort surely must be magically powerful. But the fear factor was based on something else. Think about it Lord Edgbaston. Why did everyone fear Voldemort?"

"He was powerful, and any who stood against him were killed..."

"And how many did he kill by his own hand? I don't and can't deny that he killed several people. But far more people were killed in his name. People were scared of the D.E.s by association. He never fought as many battles himself as he sent his death eaters into. And why were the D.E.s able to invoke fear? Because they always fought in numbers, and used deadly spells. I know for a fact that even those who engaged him- some vigilante group called the Order of the Phoenix or something like that- never retaliated in a way that would put them out of commission forever. I would hate to sound as if I was blowing my own trumpet, but Lucius attacked me with a killing curse and I disabled him permanently with a Reducto. Should I have fired a disarmer? No. Lucius had two more wands stowed away. What would have stopped him from using any of the others from killing me?"

Dumbledore did not like where the discussion was going. The way Harry talked about the OotP also was insulting. "Are you supporting violence?"

"No! Hindsight is 20/20- and I would take this opportunity to apologise for being rude to you that night. I have no defence for talking to my Headmaster that way, but all I can say is that I was scared and also fairly tired. Can I say that a stunner against Lucius would have been the better choice? Nobody will know. What if he had dodged my stunner? The blasting curse was perfect to use, because even if he had dodged it, my curse would have hit the wall behind him, and shrapnel and chunks of the wall would have hit Lucius, thereby giving me some time to stun him. There were four other adults in the room, and till even after the end of the altercation against a hostile, none of the others even had their wands in their hands. Nobody else was vigilant." Dumbledore had the brief vision of talking to a younger, politer version of Mad-Eye. "What if it had not been me that was targeted? All the other people in the room were sitting, and so nobody could have dodged. All I am saying though is this- how many of the people arrested today would have been arrested all those years ago, if people had been proactive about their own safety? There were attacks on homes and offices, Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade. Why did people shoot stunners at best? The sheer numbers in which Death Eaters would attack meant that every time you stunned one, they would be revived and ready to fight." That did it for the old man. This had been a long running dispute between him and Mad-Eye.

"You could have disarmed him and then stunned him," offered Dumbledore. The tone of his voice was really curious, as that of a debate.

"I could have, yes. But would it have the same effect? No. At best, that ponce we call a Minister, and I refuse to mince words here, would have given him a slap on his wrist. I gave him one wrist less to slap. And it may not be conventional, but I did _disarm_ him, didn't I?"

This led to gales of hearty laughter – even from Dumbledore. "You are definitely James' son," he said, grinning.

"You seem to think that it is easy to harm others, boy!" Farrell Gibson snarled.

Harry looked at him with narrowed eyes. "Perhaps, Director Bones, it's time to show those memories. I warn you, that you should know, Gibson, that, these contain the reason why I was inducted into The Nation. I hope you can stomach them. And as for your accusations, all I shall say is that I only hurt criminals. I, Hadrian James Potter, swear on my life, magic and soul that the memories provided to the Director of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement are true!"

And before Dumbledore could protest, Amelia had poured the memories of Harry's fight for the Stone and against the basilisk. People watched in awe for the next forty five minutes as the boy battled YKW twice. On Department of Magical Law Enforcement orders, the memories had been edited to remove the part about the Horcruxes, or the Stone, but there was enough left to enthral the audience. Amelia and Augusta felt proud of their boy, every time they saw it.

"Merlin's beard!" muttered Lord Aldridge. "You have battled that?"

"The skeleton was bought by the magical museum, Crompton," Augusta told him proudly. Lord Aldridge gulped audibly.

"How did he not get the Order of Merlin for this? That is bloody scary, and I was a Gryffindor!"

"Ah, but the boy is Lord Gryffindor, Crompton!" Augusta joked back eliciting subdued chuckles for what Harry decided was supposed to be a joke. Perhaps that was expected in formal society too. He started fidgeting a bit, clearly torn between telling Gran that it wasn't a remotely funny joke, and being polite.

Lord Greengrass saw the expressions flitting on his face and couldn't help a smirk. The boy was astute in the way he got things to go his way, but was otherwise a boy. He wanted to get to know him. If it were possible, this would be a very powerful person to ally with. Perhaps, he could even be brought into relation with the House of Greengrass. He took the boy aside with Marius and engaged in a discussion about agenda. With Marius around, Harry knew that he could speak truthfully and in a no-holds-barred manner.

"So, Lord Potter, it was quite a first impression that you made today."

"Thank you, sir."

"You didn't say anything regarding the Order of Merlin, though..."

"Several reasons, My Lord Greengrass; firstly, I will refuse anything Fudge offers me on general principle. He has been sitting in office on blood money and I shall not accept anything he proffers to save his – pardon my language – dirty arse, save his head on a platter, his orders carrying out the trial and punishment **_proportional_** to the crime of every Death Eater – while keeping in mind that they are rapists and murderers at the very least but also considering their motivation; and his resignation. Secondly, if I'm to be given an Order of Merlin for killing the Basilisk, then Miss Hermione Granger should be given one too. She was the one who found out everything and gave me the knowledge of what I would be facing. She is far more deserving of that. Unless, however, that happens, I won't accept any award that Magical Britain wishes to give me. And the British Magical Society is too backward, too uncivilised to recognise the contributions of 'uppity muggle filth' when they already have one on the Wizengamot. It is, very truly, a matter of my trust and my values. I don't trust the Ministry at all, barring a few like Director Bones, and most of the Wizengamot – and I am not making assumptions about anyone, but making a general comment on the basis of my observations – will be at loggerheads with my beliefs."

"That is an interesting way to say it," Cygnus said carefully. He was unsure about this new Potter. He was like James, he was like Charlus, but he was also like Lily. And yet he was his own man. It was disconcerting to say the least. He got things done with the tenacity of a half-blood fighting their society's mores, thought like a muggleborn, and behaved like a powerful pureblood noble Lord.

"Indeed it was, Cygnus," said Madam Turnbull. "May I join you in interrogating our newest addition?"

"By all means," answered Lord Greengrass.

"Thank you, Cygnus, Marius. Lord Potter-"

"Please, Madam Turnbull, do call me Hadrian or Harry. This was supposed to be informal."

"Only if you call me Liz," Elizabeth replied with a smile. Harry simply nodded. Even though he was not comfortable in going so, he could circumvent that by not exactly addressing her. "So, what is it that you would like to contribute to the magical society?"

"Ah! A very euphemistic way of asking me about my agenda! There is actually a lot. You may know that I was raised in the mundane world. For very personal reasons, I was happy to get out from there and enter the magical world. I had thought that it would be home, it would be where I would finally, hopefully, belong.

"I was totally disillusioned."

"Why?"

"By my observation, the mundane world, out of necessity, has progressed far beyond anything the magical world ever imagined. I could wax lyrical about it, and you would still think it was the most fascinating thing ever. My main agenda is to mix mundane technology and magic, and take our society kicking and screaming if need be into the 21st century.

"Then there are the most stupid traditions. Let me start with the scariest one. I have three titles requiring line continuation, so I have to marry three women? It is – pardon my French – bullshit! Alexandria Turnbull, your daughter is the Heiress to two houses. Is she required to have two husbands?"

"WHAT?" Elizabeth literally yelled.

"Well if the laws of succession state that I must have a wife for each House, wouldn't it be the same for Alexandria? Equality is necessary after all!" All three people had a terrible state of convulsions at that. "That is why I don't like the law. Why should anyone force somebody to share their love, soul and body? It is demeaning! Marriage is the most sacred of institutions because it is the starting point for building a family. It should be an equal partnership, which the law doesn't recognise. I was told that it was a magical requirement. I don't believe it. It is existent only because the society is patriarchal. Were it not, daughters would inherit the houses too. And the marriage contract thingies- why are somebody else's wills enforced on unborn children? Often, it can be even at the cost of magic, if the contracts are blood signed.

"In this society, several women, in spite of being far more competent, don't get the chance they deserve. They don't get the chance to showcase their calibre or to lead or enforce their vision on their family. I resent that, truthfully. In fact, I sincerely believe that the most competent of the House's children should inherit the House or Houses, irrespective of gender or age.

"As for my other agendas, I want equality for werewolves, and all magical sentient beings. Weres are simply people who have a disease. I have already started a research facility in my parents' name to research ways to combat the disease. They should be allowed to show their competence. They aren't monsters.

"Other important parts of the agenda include introduction of democracy to the magical world in conjunction with the Wizengamot, reformation of the educational system to include Universities and such, and compulsory lessons regarding integration into non-magical society."

Elizabeth and Cygnus both seemed to be deeply troubled by this. By now several people had gathered to hear what he had to say.

"Sir, Ma'am, I understand that my beliefs are revolutionary; blasphemous even. But we have fallen too far behind the world, and it is time that the British Magical society should progress. I understand that what happened today isn't something I should expect regularly. Change is the only constant, but I can accept that no change that is sudden will sustain in the long term. All the same, sustainable change shouldn't be glacially slow. All I think is that it is time that the magical and mundane and Garnarukran and every other sentient being should accept and respect, if not fully embrace each other. As for integrating with the non-magical society it is for our own good. Non-magicals are far efficient as compared to us. They have weapons of mass destruction that have killed upwards of a hundred thousand in a single strike – and this was at the same time as Grindelwald." People were openly gaping in shock. "I see that you would need proof. I shall endeavour to tell you about Hiroshima and Nagasaki and the Second World War. Imagine now, what would have happened to us if Death Eaters would have exposed us to them. Non-Magicals outnumber us roughly 1600 to 1. What would have happened?"

The look of sheer horror on the faces of the listeners as Harry paused spurred him on, now that he was on the soapbox.

"People will be suspicious if someone is unable to understand their monetary systems, or is not conversant with their technology, or wears hideously outrageous clothes – our day-to-day robes are fancy costumes to them. The world has moved on. When will we? You, my Lord Greengrass were a Slytherin. What is the best way to ensure our survival?"

"We should remain inconspicuous," he replied with understanding.

"That's exactly it! Each strife within our roughly thirty-five thousand strong population – and I am counting humans only – will expose us little by little to the wider world unfavourably. We cannot have that, and it is impossible to achieve absolute segregation, nor is it advisable. No race or belief is perfect. Mine aren't either. I just want to improve and help the magical world improve upon its faults as seen from the eyes of us mundane raised people, and protect our really little community. For too long, the inability to accept differences and the fact that others can be better or can have better ideas or ways has given rise to one dark Lord after another. It is time to stop this chain."

Dumbledore was listening to what Harry had said. It was the real Dumbledore who was present that day, and he was listening to something he had once believed in. Perhaps, it was time to pass on the mantle to someone else.

"You, Hadrian, have given me, in fact all of us, a lot to think about. Do you think we could maintain correspondence?" asked Elizabeth.

"Indeed. It would be most enlightening to know each side of a debate, for there can be debate and discussion among allies too."

"A very wise stand," commended Dumbledore softly.

As the allies started taking leave, Harry realised something important. Dumbledore, when away from the castle seemed to be sensible and wasn't pointlessly manipulative. There was a mystery to solve.

* * *

Once Harry returned from the Wizengamot with Dumbledore and Minerva, he kept observing the Headmaster. Dumbledore had flinched almost as soon as they entered the Hogwarts wards, and then glared at Harry (who glared back), and a dumbfounded Minerva. He then took to behaving as he had done in the fifth year of the O.T. His behaviour gave more credence to Harry's suspicions.

On finally making it to the Gryffindor, common room, he had looked wearily towards his friends who were sitting in a corner with their homework, before crashing into a couch for a nap. Hermione had ensured that there would be no homework that he would leave overdue by helping him manage his time. Harry happily slept off forgoing dinner. He did not speak a word, and only got up to sleep in the dormitory, still completely dressed. He only faintly heard a voice say, "Welcome, Heir." He never felt the bolt of power engulfing him.


	33. Chapter 33

**A/N:** This chapter will, towards the end be very important from the perspective of Ron. While it is true that Ron is not a character I like at all, this story will not have any bashing henceforth- or beyond whatever point I started bashing him explicitly. Leaving old friendships- and for Harry, it is not only old, but among the first- is terrible and difficult. Will Ron be redeemed? The character will have flaws, and if you look closely, even all other characters have flaws. They may not necessarily be in interactions with others. One can be flawed towards oneself too. Ron, of the timeline of this story, has nothing to be redeemed for, yet. He will instead be let in to some secrets very gradually. Remember, the school year has only progressed for three or so weeks. I have no intention of Ron being forever kept out of the loop. The character is such that very obvious lack of attention, and lack of trust, will actually be the cause of severe betrayal. He will remain a very good friend. But he won't be **_the_** best friend.

 **Aftermath – I**

Once the Wizengamot session had ended and she was done with her work, including the immediate sealing of the Museum and tagging all its employees, Amelia hurried off to Gringotts, and practically demanded to see Hightab, Biggem, Rubyclaw and Goldhaul. The tellers who – manned, for lack of a better word – the floor area and were familiar with the witch were shocked at her behaviour. While not exactly at the level of the younger human companion she had last been to Gringotts with, she was unfailingly polite and respectful. They scowled and tarried when she showed her impatience again. When she was summoned to Hightab's office, she literally ran.

"Lady Regent Bones, is there a reason why you are here at such an hour, much past the time the bank closes for the customers?"

"Cut the formality crap Hightab! I bring news or a memory or whatever! You will never guess what happened in the Wizengamot today!"

This was odd. Director Bones, or Lady Regent Bones as Hightab had taken to calling the little girl whom he had seen grow up into an upstanding witch, was never this impatient, impolite and so abhorrent of protocol and common courtesies. So he switched to his role of the family friend. "Amelia, please sit down!" Amelia did sit down, but that did not rein in her lost composure whatsoever.

"Calm down and tell me what happened!" Hightab near ordered.

"It is your Lord Griffinheart – Lord Slytherin, that is. He turned the tables on everyone, and has changed the rules, even for The Nation!"

Hightab's frown deepened. What had Griffinheart done? "Is that why you wanted to speak to all his account managers?"

"Yes. If possible, I thought it would be prudent to show this to The Lord Director too."

Hightab was now seriously worried. Whatever it was that Griffinheart had done to put Amelia in the state she was in had the potential to anger the Lord Director. He called for a Gringotts' Memory-Hold TM and asked Amelia to show it to him first. Amelia did it without delay or protest. Hightab had to watch the memory twice. This was momentous, stupendous and absolutely insane. Griffinheart had done something no Garnarukro would ever do – ditch the plan and change the game altogether. And yet he had taken the shock value of his induction into The Nation to dizzying heights, at least as far as the significance of the matter to the relations between The Nation and the Wizards went. Even Hightab had to take several calming breaths and gripped his chair hard to get his own composure in place. This was... he had no words for it. He stepped out of his office and ran. He ran like a Garnarukro possessed. Once he reached The Lord-Director's Chambers, he literally yelled out to him.

"Guards, let me in! The Lord-Director must know what Griffinheart has done! He has just changed the game for The Nation single-handedly! Just let me get in!" Hightab was shouting in the hope that the Lord-Director would hear him and grant him audience. His expectations were exceeded when Ragnok himself came out.

"Hightab!" shouted Ragnok. "What is going on?"

"Sire, it is Griffinheart! He just... I can't explain! Please grant me and all his other Account Managers as well as Director Bones, audience! Your decision of making him an Honorary Member of The People has had such an outcome that even you might have never expected!"

Barely ten minutes later, the five Garnarukra (Rubyclaw being the fifth) and Amelia, were viewing the memory again – and again. All of The Lord Director's anger at being roused from his sleep dissolved. "By Rewalka's boundless grace!" he swore. It had, for long, been a tremendous insult to The People, that, they had been bundled up as creatures. Even he had never imagined Griffinheart using his fame as the Boy-Who-Lived, just after it had been declared that the Voldemort creature was alive, to gain this very, very significant concession. True, the young one had been very impetuous and had destroyed every rule of the game, but never had it been expected that this would be the result. Even in his impetuousness, Griffinheart had inadvertently turned a very – as the humans liked to call it – Slytherin move.

"Lady Regent Bones, may I know when the young Lord Griffinheart intends to put up his proposal?"

"I am not sure, Sire. We did not get time to discuss it. Harry- I am sorry- Lord Griffinheart will have to first draft the basics of the proposal. He will of course, forward it to The Nation, before he even takes it to his allies- it is the correct thing to do, and I am sure we expect just that from him. He has tremendous power in the Wizengamot due to his Houses. With the declaration that YKW is still alive, people are liable to bend over backwards to appease him. There is also the matter of Sirius Black which he wants resolved soon. That apart, he is still a schoolboy, so he will be very busy. I think with some help, he will be able to come up with a draft in two to three months' time. Thereafter, it will chiefly depend on how things change."

And there, for Ragnok was the crux of the matter. On his part, Griffinheart had expended possibly every effort. Even his out-of-the-blue actions turned out to be clever moves. It was very easy to forget that he was still in school.

"That seems fair. Director Bones, if I could impose upon you to set up a system whereby I could send one of The People to tutor him in our ways and help him with the draft once every two weeks, would it help? For given all that he seems to accomplish, I might one day induct him as my junior counsel." Amelia sucked in her breath noisily. This was something that Sirius had discussed with her a little while ago. He feared that Harry would burn himself out, or bite more than he could chew. He feared that Harry would lose his chance at childhood.

"I apologise, Lord Director, but may I have leave to speak my mind?" Ragnok waved a clawed hand expansively. "Sire, while he may not be my son, he was to be raised as mine and Sirius'. We both fear that Harry– Lord Griffinheart– may run out of steam. We know how he is. He will willingly take up the challenge. But we fear for him. We fear that he may end up taking on more than he can chew. Please consider this. He's working on the way to get rid of YKW and his Horcruxes, he is attending magical school while also working towards his muggle education, he has to deal with the fallout of the destruction of the Death Eaters, he has to get his godfather freed and he is already working on the Wizengamot – even if he appoints someone as his proxy, he will have to keep his eye on things. Appointing him as one of your counsellors, and getting him to work on the proposal, even with help, will make him lose any pretence of childhood that he may have left."

Ragnok surveyed the woman who stood before him, speaking against his decision. His first instinct would have been to lose his temper, but something stilled him. He could see that the lady had a very pertinent point. Lord Griffinheart was still a child for four years by human standards, and for twelve by the count of the Garnarukran. How much could he really pile on the young one? "You have an alternative, Director?"

"I do, Sire. Once Sirius is free, Harry intends to relinquish the active bulk of his duties in the Wizengamot to his godfather. Sirius, as of now, has really nothing to do. Since he will be taking up the baton from Harry, why not have Sirius write down the drafts? Sure, Harry might have several important ideas or points, but those can be just as easily communicated to Sirius."

Ragnok pondered upon it. He did not know the Lord Black too well, but he knew that Griffinheart had pulled off an audacious rescue of the man. More importantly, the two were family. Both the Director and Griffinheart had proven to be very honourable people. If Lord Black was someone they trusted it would do well to give him a chance. "You speak truly, Director. Griffinheart does engender such a manner of confidence. It is too easy to forget that he has years to go before we consider him an adult. Please pass a message to Lord Black that I would like to meet him at his earliest convenience."

"It will be as you order, Lord-Director. Please ensure that he stays away from the prisoner, though. As for tutoring Griffinheart, Hogwarts has a resident Garnarukro tutor in the charms Master. Professor Flitwick will teach."

"Indeed. Lady Regent, you said something regarding any pretence of Griffinheart's childhood. What did you mean?"

Amelia, Rubyclaw, Goldhaul and Biggem froze – something that Ragnok did not miss. Hightab frowned. He knew nothing about this.

"Lady Regent, I request you to tell me," ordered Ragnok.

"How much do you know about his life before Hogwarts, Sire?" Amelia asked in a quavering voice.

"Nothing at all, Lady Regent," answered Ragnok. He saw three of his People trembling in rage. "You three clearly know. Why was I not told?"

"My Lord," started Goldhaul rather meekly, "it is terrible. We are afraid that it will draw your not inconsiderable wrath. Griffinheart has stilled us from drawing our blades on those... _muggles_ ," the Potter Account Manager replied, fairly spitting out the last word in distaste and anger.

"Show me what you know, now!" Ragnok's voice contained steel and menace. Goldhaul hastened to comply. By the end of the next fifty minutes, Ragnok had drawn his battle axe, the one that had earned him the name Head Taker.

"My Lord, please calm down! Lord Griffinheart feared exactly this. He has not stilled us from exacting revenge, sire. He just intends to destroy them financially."

"If it doesn't work, their heads are mine to claim," thundered Ragnok as he stalked away.

* * *

Harry was surprised by several things the following morning at breakfast. For one, Silverwing, Sirius' new owl, had delivered Harry a garbled howler, in which the old dog had told him how proud he – or rather 'she' was. Remus had started sniggering, almost having to rush out of the Hall laughing uproariously.

"HARRY JAMES POTTER! YOU MY DEAR, HAVE GIVEN ME THE HAPPIEST, PROUDEST DAY OF MY LIFE YET – AND THE PREVIOUS ONE WAS WHEN YOU TURNED ME GREEN AS A BABY WHILE YOU WERE PLAYING IN YOUR BATHTUB, BECAUSE I WAS TICKLING YOU! YOU WERE SUCH A CUTE LITTLE BABY THEN! NOW MY ICKLE LITTLE BABY BOY IS ALL GROWN UP!"

By now, Harry was blushing and beyond mortified. He would get Padfoot neutered for this.

"SUCH A WEE LITTLE THING YOU WERE! I STILL REMEMBER CHANGING YOUR DIRTY NAPPIES WHILE LILY AND JAMIE LOOKED ON, MY DEAR LITTLE HARRY-POO! AND NOW LOOK AT YOU, GOING AFTER ALL THE BIG, BAD D.E.s YOURSELF!"

The Gryffindor table was now joining the other three tables in laughing at Harry's predicament.

"HOW ARE ALL YOUR LITTLE FRIENDS? FREDDIE, GEORGIE, RONNIE, HERMI, NEV, SUSIE AND EVERYONE ELSE? HOW IS PROFESSOR KITTY? WRITE TO ME ABOUT THEM, OK? I HEARD YOU HAD A HUNK OF A NEW DADA PROFESSOR! INTRODUCE ME TO THE HANDSOME MAN, WILL YOU? I HOPE YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN!"

Harry was sure if it could have, the letter would have done a *WINK* *WINK* *NUDGE* *NUDGE* routine. Professors Kitty and 'Handsome DADA Hunk' were now blushing worse than Harry. Flitwick had fallen off his chair laughing, while Dumbledore had done away with his Headmaster routine and had surreptitiously put up plaques bearing the insignia 'Professor Kitty' and 'Handsome Hunk of a DADA Professor' over their heads, making the Hall burst into laughter.

"NOW BE A GOOD BOY! AND TELL YOUR COUSIN DRACO TO NOT DIE BY BEING A FOOL. HIS FATHER HELD UP HIS END OF THE BARGAIN! OK, LITTLE DRAGON? I REMEMBER PINCHING YOUR CHEEKS WHEN YOU WERE A NICE BABY FERRET! DON'T TROUBLE YOUR TEACHERS BOYS!"

The howler burst into pink flames after that. Harry wondered whether burying his face in his porridge would help. He was going to kill Sirius Black. Then he was going to raise him from the dead and kill him again. He looked up to the Head table to Moony and mouthed, "Padfoot". Moony nodded in response. They were going to have revenge on the old dog.

He had barely recovered from the Howler, when Alexandria came up to him from the Ravenclaw table and hugged him. "You know, you dear naughty little boy, I was going to thank you by kissing your cheeks-"

"I wouldn't dare to say no to a pretty lady," Harry replied teasingly, grinning exactly as he had seen his father do in Sirius' memories.

"Ooh! Little Harry has got a tongue in his mouth, hasn't he?" Alexandria ribbed him, kissing him on both cheeks. Behind him, Hermione's hands tightened on her knife and fork.

"What are you thanking him for, Ally?" asked Neville. Evidently he was familiar with her.

Alexandria assumed a very serious expression. "You know that I am the sole Heiress of two Houses, just like Harry is the Lord of four and Heir of one, don't you? Well, ickle little baby Harry here has a problem with the succession laws which require him to marry more than once. He asked my mum whether I was allowed to have a husband for each of my Houses, sarcastically of course. I personally don't like the idea of being a second wife for line continuation. Harry put forward his views, which in this world are blasphemous. He believes that the most competent child of the couple should inherit the titles, irrespective of gender or age-seniority."

"Oh! So you won't want to get your claws into Harry eh?" Neville asked with a smirk.

"I wanted to Neville, but Harry here has decided upon his Lady Pot-"

"Alexandria!" admonished Harry, turning beet-red. She just chortled heartily and left. The rest of breakfast time was spent uneasily, as Harry kept quailing under the daggers Hermione was glaring into him, while Neville, Ron, Lee and the twins were trying their hardest to not laugh. It wasn't until several months later that harry finally deciphered the glares at Hermione's angsty teen possessiveness, similar to her display for Ron in the sixth year of the original timeline.

* * *

The surprises didn't end there however. The Daily Prophet had published his exploits in the Wizengamot the previous day along with the transcripts (though there was no mention of what the Dark Mark really was; Snape was still being protected by Dumbledore, a wonderful thing given the scenario), and he had been the subject of several calculating glares and pointed stares and whispers all over again. The surprise was when, thankfully, Minerva and Remus both stepped in and threatened the whisperers and gossipers with detentions. That did not stop several girls looking at him with doe eyes, much to his fear and Hermione's anger. This was particularly true for girls from the Alliance. It was bad enough to scar Harry for life.

Since all the teachers were told about his absence and Harry had access to a pensieve, he was given memories of the previous day's lessons. Hermione refused to talk to him at all. Neville helped him a bit with the Runes and Herbology matter. But the worst was CoMC. Not only did Hagrid not give him a memory, but also channelled his inner Snape by giving Harry a detention. Hermione seemed to grin at Harry smugly for some reason when he did that. The day passed in a nearly torrid manner for him. Almost all the time, he was being accosted by someone or the other being introduced to him. It was scary. Not even in the sixth year was he subject to the kind of positive curiosity as he was now. Then there was Draco. Harry wished, hoped and even grovelled to the fates that ickle Draco would do something – anything – that would violate the life debt claim. Unfortunately, Narcissa For-The-Moment Black had called him home. Harry did not like to think that he was a cruel person, but if Narcissa had the Dark Mark, Draco – who had so often taunted Harry's parents – would be an orphan. He hated himself for thinking that way almost immediately, but he still wished for the blonde ferret to do something – anything – monumentally foolish. He hated Narcissa just as much, without influencing help, because she'd conspired with that little shit of a House-elf, Kreacher, to help set up Sirius' death. She didn't have his sympathies.

Nott and several of his housemates were decidedly cold to Harry. He had finally told them that with his position with The Nation, ways to free the D.E.s were being devised to free them of the mark. But it wouldn't free them of the punishment. While this had not raised their spirits and therefore their demeanours at all, it had staved off any blatant rivalry or enmity – temporarily.

All of a sudden Harry seemed to be a far more popular than he was ever before, and it scared him even more. He started retreating into a shell within the very day, something that his friends observed – it was that obvious. Hermione was still not speaking to him much, and that frustrated Harry even more. She wasn't taking pity on him at all. It had gone far downhill for Harry, and the trend continued till Saturday. The only females behaving normally were his two cousins. At least, Andromeda and Dora were happy.

* * *

His detention with Hagrid was a godsend. It had resolved several outstanding issues.

Harry turned up at Hagrid's at four that evening. Hagrid looked at him the same way Snape would. Harry tried the innocent-eyes-with-power-flare on Hagrid, before realising that it did not work on Hagrid.

"Potter, right on time fo' yer dete'tio'! Righ' then! Ge' on with it!" ordered Hagrid.

"You haven't assigned me any work, **_sir,_** " Harry replied innocently.

That flustered Hagrid. "Wha'? Oh yes, yeh an' I'll be goin' inter da fores' an' cleanin' ou' wha' remains of Aragog's nest, won' we?" Hagrid asked in his normal tone, comically forgetting to stay in the role he'd assumed.

"Of course, sir," Harry replied easily.

In typical Hagrid style, which proved that Hagrid remained the same no matter what, the gentle giant asked, "Since whe' d'ya call me 'sir' eh?"

"Ever since you started calling me Potter, sir," Harry answered.

"Wha'?" Hagrid asked, trying to make sense of what Harry said. Then realising what had happened, he clapped slowly and said, "Tha's me outsmarted innit? Very funny, aren' ye? Come on the'."

Harry shrugged and followed his first ever friend in the magical world into the forest. They followed the same trail that Harry had followed when he had given himself up to Voldemort. Harry was no longer afraid of the forest. But that did not mean that he would be careless. Hagrid wasn't inclined to any conversation, so Harry turned into the pup and followed him, trotting soundlessly. They were nearly half-way to Aragog's lair when Hagrid stopped and turned around abruptly. Harry had no time to transform.

"'arry? Where are yeh?" shouted Hagrid, only to be answered by a loud bark. Hagrid looked down to see the large black, green-eyed pup. He knelt down on one knee, before realising who it was.

"What?" asked Harry irritably as he transformed. "I was right behind you, wasn't I?"

"There's no need ter ge' shirty wi' me," Hagrid growled.

"Oh sure, and you have been behaving with me like Snape does. What is that for? Taking up his role now that I don't attend that git's classes, are you?"

"Tis' all yer faul', an don' yeh tell me it wasn'! Why d'yeh ge' rid o' Aragog?"

There was the real reason. "Of course eh, Professor, now you are exactly like Snape. Not even asking me why before going all Snape on me! Well, last year, when Lucius and that idiot of a Minister came to arrest you, you had given Ron and me directions to follow the spiders. Follow them we did, and that led to us nearly being eaten! Why do you think Fang no longer comes near either Ron or me?"

Hagrid stopped in his tracks. Harry thought there was something around, so quickly transformed. He did not smell or hear anything different. He scampered forward just to be sure before transforming back.

"Why din' ya tell me? Yeh shoudda tol' me 'bout it shoudn' yeh have?"

"And what would you do? You think they are all cuddly. Aragog said that his children didn't eat you only on his word. Professor Hagrid, Acromantula are a king or queen and minion type of society, but they are also tenacious and cannibalistic. What were you going to wait for- One of Aragog's children to challenge, kill and eat him? They would then have eaten you. And you are forgetting that they prey on warm-blooded animals chiefly. There's a whole school full of warm-blooded humans for Merlin's sake! They'd have attacked the school with Aragog gone!

"And imagine if they had taken a centaur foal. What do you think that the herd would have done? And don't forget, they know who had reared that monster, and who sent it to the forest. They would have been up in arms against you as well as the school."

"Oh." Hagrid had gone white, and now without his facial fuzz, it was very easy to see.

Harry snorted. "'Oh' he says. Damn! Not all creatures are cuddly and nice Professor."

"Stahp callin' me pr'fess'r now, will yeh? I go' it. I was bein' a fool."

"Yes you were. Anyway, now that we are going deep into the forest, I have something nice to show you." Harry led the half-giant deeper and deeper away from Aragog's lair. When they came to a clearing, Harry asked Hagrid to stop.

"You saw my animagus form, didn't you?"

"Yeah, nice an' clever animals are Grimm."

Harry could have slapped his head in irritation. "Well, I have two more forms. Care to see?"

Instantly, Hagrid took the face of a five year old in a toy shop.

"The Centaurs don't come here, do they? I wouldn't want them to feel that I am invading their forest."

"Nah, Bane, Firenze and the lot migh' make a look in 'ere every now an' then, but yeh don' have ter worry s'long as yer wi' me."

"Fine; close your eyes then." He was just about to transform when he realised that this was an excellent place for Moony and Neville to check up the Animagus transformations. "Sir, would you mind if Neville and Professor Lupin join us?"

"Wha' you still callin' me sir for?" protested Hagrid.

"Sorry Hagrid, but may they? Neville can do it too, and we wanted your professional opinion about it." That was the right thing to say because Hagrid's eyes brightened considerably at that. Harry sent his Patroni off to Moony, Neville and Hermione, all of whom came barely fifteen minutes later, with Ron tagging along.

While they waited for the message to be responded to, Harry asked Hagrid, "How is it that you speak proper English in class, but otherwise you speak as you normally do?"

"Ah, that; Prefesser Fli'wick cast a charm on me. It makes my speech seem proper English ter the studen's," Hagrid replied with a grin. This was something Harry decided he had to learn. Hagrid had Giant blood in him, so he was notoriously spell-resistant. Whatever Flitwick had done had bypassed those constraints. If the idea could be replicated, the same could be extended to help disguise Hagrid in the mundane world too. Harry nodded at Hagrid in understanding. Just a few moments later the others came.

"What is it about Harry?" asked Remus.

"Our forms, Moony; Hagrid can tell us more about them than anyone can. And you can tell us everything else. You are after all the Marauders' Hermione," he added with a wink.

"May I hit you?" Both Hermione and Remus asked in unison, and then shared a laugh at the coincidence.

"You would do that to me, Moony? Would you, Hermione?" asked Harry with mock sorrow.

"Transform, mutt."

"What are you calling him Moony for, Harry?" Ron asked, thoroughly bewildered. He missed the way Remus, Harry, Neville and Hermione blanched and paled identically.

"Er- ah- well, he is my Uncle. He prefers me calling him Moony."

And in that moment Ron showed that he was not exactly the same Ron that Harry had known. Ron rounded on Remus angrily and asked, "So why didn't you take him in? Why leave him to the Dursleys?"

Remus grimaced in some sort of self-despise, before answering, "I was not allowed. The Ministry had laws against someone like me taking Harry in, never mind the fact that I had appealed and had all precautions."

"Why would they not allow you?"

"Ron, I will tell you when we get back to the castle. There is a lot that I have to tell you and Hermione. Trust me." Harry had spoken in a placating but authoritative manner. Ron frowned, but nodded. "Shall we get along with why we called you lot here?" Remus nodded.

And Neville transformed into the bear (Harry refused to call it Honeypaws) while Harry transformed into the pup first. Ron swore on seeing the bear. The bear stood on all four legs, lumbering towards Hagrid, Hermione and Remus. They ran their hands through his fur, checked his nails and paws, and then his ears. Remus ran a measurement spell over him. Neville was an astounding two and a half metres from tail to nose, and weighed nearly a 700-kilo. That was one bear-hug even Hagrid would've been scared of. Remus walked towards Harry, and checked his teeth and hide as one would while buying a dog. Harry barked indignantly. Remus only muttered, "Mutt" in response. He was nearly a metre and half long without the tail and weighed eighty five kilos, and stood a good one and a quarter metre tall. The only reason to call him a Pup was the fact that Padfoot was even larger than the monster. Harry trotted towards Hermione and whined. She was still resolutely ignoring him. He snuffled at her to no avail. Finally, he'd had enough. He went away from her for a bit, and she thought that she was well shot of him. He looked at her sorrowfully, and then sitting on his haunches, let out a long, loud, sorrowful, mournful howl. He then bounded over to her, making her fall onto her back and gave her face a full slobber bath.

"Geroff... urgh...get off me you monster!" Hermione admonished to no avail, but she couldn't hold her laughter for long, even as she tried to fight him off spiritedly.

"Well, then tell me why you are angry at me," Harry demanded as he transformed.

"Nothing," answered Hermione coldly. Harry felt as if he was being given a glimpse of how Hermione felt when he and Ron hadn't spoken to her in the third year of the O.T. finally he did what eons and eons of men did.

"Hermione, whatever I have done to make you this angry, I am sorry about it. I was wrong, I am sorry." He couldn't control the whine that slipped into his words.

"That's what I wanted to hear," Hermione said, brightly.

"Thank you." The relief in Harry's voice was palpable, even though he still wasn't sure what he had done. Alexandria's flirting had hit Hermione on a raw nerve. "Now see this."

Neville had, by now, transformed into a large brown wolf. The wolf was two metre long, and weighed about ninety kilo. The wolf was about one metre in height. Moony was suitably impressed by the animagus forms of both boys. Pup bounded over to the larger canine and nipped at its tail, and the two animals played a game of chase, much to everyone's amusement.

Finally, Neville tried transforming into the Re'em. As he had told Harry, he was able to become all golden. He could also become a towering white bull. But for the life of him, he could not do it together. Hermione was extremely fascinated by the sight of the three and half tonne, four metre long and three and half metre tall bull. All teenagers tried to hang onto the bull's horns, but they were simply too high. In Harry's opinion, the form suited Neville. Neville took a small run around the clearing. Ron, he observed, had not been able to speak a word as he stared in barely concealed shock.

It was now Harry's turn. He bade them all to go back quite a bit and transformed into Firewing. The Griffin had grown considerably over three months, and now stood at nearly twelve feet tall. Even his wingspan was of eighteen feet and he was as long as he was tall (head to foot). He now weighed close to a staggering four hundred kilo.

"Crikey! Well I never," muttered Hagrid. Remus echoed his sentiments as they all moved towards the griffin.

Hermione was the first to reach him. As his back was at nearly nine feet, she couldn't reach up to touch him. Hagrid could.

"Nice thumpin' good Griffin yeh are, 'arry! Would yeh mind being the model for me in class?"

Firewing screeched indignantly. Remus checked the Griffin's eyes and saw a glint of mischief in them. The majestic creature glanced at his friends and then back at Remus, before sitting down.

"Hermione, Neville, Ron come here please," Remus said seriously; the three unsuspecting teenagers followed his orders. "We are testing Harry's ability to control his animal instincts. I want you to sit on his back." Neville caught on almost immediately. He grinned at his professor and sat on Firewing's back behind Hermione just as Ron sat behind him. Like a shot, Firewing broke into a run and took flight before Hermione could even start to protest.

"I DON'T LIKE TH- AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA," screamed Hermione, as Firewing shot off. Ron and Neville had gripped him painfully in the fur, while Hermione's hands not being long enough, was the only reason why he wasn't being strangled. He gave them a ride along the edge of the forest, before flying high over the lake. Firewing then dived hard before making an abrupt about turn, almost making Ron slide off. They saw the castle in the sunset, before they landed back in the clearing and Harry transformed.

"That was-" started Neville.

"- Bloody brilliant!" ended Ron.

Harry preened, before Hermione started thwacking him hard with each word she spoke. "HADRIAN" "JAMES" "POTTER!" "WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?"

"WOMAN!" shouted Harry. "Stop hitting me 'Mione! It hurts!"

"You know that heights scare me!"

"But I wouldn't have let any of you fall!"

"But I was still scared!"

"And stop it!" growled Remus. "I want to see the other one!"

"Huh?"

"The other form, Harry- we want to see it!"

"Oh. Move back you lot. This one is bloody massive by anyone's standards." The five people moved as far away as was possible while still being able to see the transformation.

As Harry transformed, very slowly into a gigantic, seventy two foot tall dragon, with a massive hundred and eight foot wingspan and an eighteen foot tail, Remus, Hagrid, Hermione and Ron gasped as one. The pure, matte black hide and the ears and fangs were all very distinctive features. Neville knew about this form and was not in as much awe as the others but it was still an astonishing sight. He just seemed to go on and on and on and on.

Suddenly, there was a powerful, repetitive tremor. Hagrid was ** _jumping_** for joy at finally seeing an Elder Dragon.

"Crikey! I always wan'ed ter see one of these, an' now I 'ave! He's such a fine specimen of such a large dragon!"

"He is large," remarked Remus unnecessarily.

"Nice going, Sherlock," muttered Hermione, quite forgetting that she had just spoken sarcastically to a teacher, standing beside Ron whose mouth was opening and closing like a goldfish. Finally he croaked weakly, "Hermione, Harry is a Grimm, Griffin and a Dragon!"

"So I have seen," muttered Hermione, still not able to get over the sight in front of her.

"I think I know now how Harry felt when he went up against the basilisk," continued Ron, as if he had never heard her at all. "At least Harry doesn't want to eat us or something. I swear I am going to wake up screaming with bad dreams after today..."

"'arry! Can yeh fly or summat?" asked Hagrid, clearly enjoying the whole show.

"He is insane, right?" Hermione asked Remus in sotto voce.

"Believe me, 'Aunty Hermi' I have asked the same question ever since I have met him." Remus had allowed his human/non-professional side to be at the fore with Harry and his friends; so even when he was supposed to be the teacher, he could still slip in a joke or a ribbing.

"Woo-hoo Moony, nice one, wasn't that, eh? When are you going to get around to making me Aunty Hermi?" Apparently Hermione had quite a tongue.

Harry attempted to fly, but could barely get off the ground at all. When he got tired of trying, he let out a roar in frustration that had them all tracking back in fear. If it was possible for a Dragon to look sheepish, Harry was looking that way. He transformed.

"See, Moony, that's why I need your help. For the life of me, I can't manage to fly. And those enormous wings – I am unsure whether to just flap them or what."

"But can't you fly with the Griffin form?"

"Those wings have feathers, Moony. The dragon's wings are bat-like. There is a difference in the way the air flows around them. When the bird wings are in flight, the direction of the feathers can be changed by the muscles in the wings for various forms of flight. The dragon's wings are nothing like that."

"Point taken," said Remus agreeing. "I don't know anything about aerodynamics."

"Maybe Charlie could help," Ron ventured. "He works on a Dragon Reserve in Romania."

"That's a wonderful idea Ron," praised Remus. "But we will have to be careful- we can't have too many people knowing about Nightflame, can we?"

"Nightflame?" asked Neville perplexed as they started walking back to the castle.

"It seemed a good name for the dragon. He is black as night, and well, flame is self-explanatory."

"I hope it wasn't you who came up with the name Wormtail," Harry replied. "Joining up two words isn't terribly imaginative."

"Oh yeah? What about Firewing then?"

"My wings look like flames then!" Harry defended.

"Sure," replied Remus, dragging the word out.

"The Griffin's name is going to remain Firewing," Harry declared stoutly.

"We will see. I have to consult with two more people before you get to keep that name."

"No!"

"Oh yes."

"You will drive me insane by giving the worst name possible! Absolutely not; no way are you going to rename Firewing!"

"Will too!"

"Will not!"

"Will too!"

"Will not!"

As Harry and Remus went on with their bickering, Ron asked Hermione, "Do these two bicker like this all the time?"

"It is highly probable. They are family after all."

"So much keeps happening with Harry, and I, his best mate don't even know about it."

The geas on Hermione's memories was dispelled. Her eyes widened momentarily before she started biting her lip. Unfortunately Ron noticed it.

"You know something." It was a statement, not a question. Hermione chose to not dignify it with an answer.

"I think you should talk to Harry..."

"Great! Now he doesn't even trust me!"

"I don't think that is the matter, Ron. Perhaps it is something he is scared about. You say you are his best mate. Why not confront him privately? That way there won't be any misunderstanding between you." Ron stopped in his tracks. The validity and the brilliance of the suggestion appealed to his temperamental nature. Hermione pressed her advantage, "Maybe, just maybe, Harry could be too scared to actually seek someone to speak about it? Maybe it is like what Ginny felt after the Chamber. Just don't get angry, ask him in a way that he might want to talk." Ron nodded. Hermione did have her uses after all.

Hermione on her part knew that somehow, Ron had lost Harry's trust. While Voldemort's existence was still tied to the mortal plane, there was no necessity to make enemies or hostiles where there were none. Harry's behaviour once again made sense. The magical world was in a state of passive war. She simply wrote a note on a piece of paper with a pen as she walked (Hermione had learnt to do that very early on) and slipped it into Harry's hand, making sure that Ron would not notice. Harry read it as they went, equally inconspicuously, and mouthed to her, "play along."

They reached the castle soon, Hagrid and Remus now engaged in a conversation regarding the boys' forms, when they were faced by an irate Minerva McGonagall.

"Mr. Potter! You were supposed to meet the Headmaster about half an hour ago!"

"Er... I had detention?"

Minerva pursed her lips in irritation. "Be that as it may, you are accompanying me to the Headmaster's office. Also, Director Bones wanted to talk to you. Two of those caught during The Equinox Purge, as she called it had to be killed by Aurors."

"Oh?"

"Yes," replied Minerva, as if it wasn't something good.

"Wonderful!" Harry exclaimed joyfully, and he really meant it. "Who were they?"

"Albert and Sebastian Prince."

Harry's smile turned feral. This was a bloody good day!


	34. Chapter 34

**Aftermath – II**

Minerva was scared as she walked alongside Harry. She had thought that he would feel at least a little bad about two people dying. Even if they were D.E.s and she knew that they did not deserve sympathy, actually rejoicing about their death was a bit far beyond the pale for her. But the feral grin he sported when she heard the names scared her. No. She was terrified and horrified. That was the look of a crazed murderer in her books. She was sure that were she in her animagus form, the tabby would have run and hidden under a table or something.

Harry spied a picture in the corridor, just beside the gargoyle that served as an entrance to the stairs to the Headmaster's office. It was Oswald Crumble, sixteenth Headmaster of Hogwarts. As soon as Minerva was about to give the password, the portrait disappeared. Harry knew now how Dumbledore always knew who was coming to meet him. They stepped onto the office, and Dumbledore in his infuriating grandfatherly manner waved his hand regally across the table and said, "Come in, Harry, Minerva. Good evening."

Harry slid his expressionless mask in place, and raised his shields heavily. "Good Evening, Headmaster," he acknowledged in a curt, clipped tone, which had Dumbledore turning his head to look at him in something akin to shock.

"Do take a seat," he told them in what Harry recognised as faux joviality. Dumbledore stared at Harry, who stared back expressionlessly. Usually, when Dumbledore stared at people, they would start to fidget. When silences were added to the mix, people would try to break them as they would become uncomfortable under the relentless stare of Dumbledore. Sirius had taught Harry to maintain both the stare and the silence in response. There was no need to submit to this bastard facing him ever. He hated him just as much as he hated Snape, Voldemort, Peter, the D.E.s and the Dursleys, all in no particular order. And then he had to forcibly remind himself that the man was cursed. This was bloody confusing! His shields did not betray that hatred into his expressions.

"Harry," started Dumbledore.

"Yes, Albus?" countered Harry.

The two Professors reared in shock. "Mr. Potter! What sort of rudeness and arrogance is this? You have no leave to use his first name!"

"Neither has he, Deputy Headmistress. Only my family and friends are allowed to use my name. Albus, here, is neither, nor will he ever be." Harry's smooth yet scathing reply shocked them further. "I have reminded him before, that he is to address me as Mr. Potter or Lord Potter, and that it is inappropriate for him to do otherwise. I have no intention of any niceties with him. If he calls me Mr. Potter, I will call him Headmaster. If he calls me Lord Potter, I shall call him Vassal Dumbledore. I don't see why there is any ambiguity regarding my outright intentions and statements." That set the tone of the meeting on Harry's part. He had made it clear that he did not hold Dumbledore in any regard whatsoever.

Dumbledore gave an exaggerated sigh. He had been having problems with the boy ever since the fiasco of the chamber. "Mr. Potter, then," he conceded. "I have summoned you here to discuss the nature of the happenings in the Wizengamot."

"Leaving aside the fact that we agreed to meet, and you could never 'summon' me if your life depended on it, I agree that the Wizengamot session is something that we need to discuss." Neither Minerva nor Dumbledore could make head or tail of the outright defiance that Harry showed them. "I believe that you should ask me whatever it is that you wish to ask me. I have nothing on my side, yet, Headmaster."

"Is it wise for you to distrust me so?" Dumbledore asked him condescendingly.

"It is a matter of 'CONSTANT VIGILANCE', Headmaster. You have given me less reason to trust you than Voldemort has. At least I can trust him to be my enemy, outright. You are the sort who'd stab me in my back." Harry was very deliberately goading Dumbledore. This was the chance to gain the Elder Wand. He knew that he couldn't win it from Dumbledore in a duel, yet. The old man was far too experienced, even if the two were at least equals in power, if the younger man wasn't more powerful. He kept his Occlumency shields tightened. It was difficult, but he wasn't going to let Dumbledore get away with anything. Moreover, this would go a long way towards saving the man. When he had gotten to the stone, the first time around, Dumbledore had been killed by the myth more than the curse.

Minerva's eyes widened at the way Harry spoke. Distrust was one thing – Harry showed outright disgust at the very existence of Albus Dumbledore. She couldn't believe what she saw at all. Dumbledore was mirroring those very thoughts. When had he allowed things to go to such a level that Harry actively **_hated_** him? Was he so bad to be hated enough to be trusted less than Voldemort?

"Yes you are that bad," said Harry serenely, correctly guessing the thoughts swirling in Dumbledore's head. Dumbledore's Occlumency shields only held up through over a century and more of practice. Did he know Legillimency too? "And I can't do Legillimency. I find it abhorrent to be a voyeur like you are. I just know what it is like to be hated for my very existence, thanks to your sterling efforts. It easy for me to know what a person thinks." Harry fought the urge to smirk as Dumbledore gulped in guilt. It would serve the old man right.

"Mr. Potter, this is no way to talk to the Headmaster!" Minerva admonished, but her tone had definitely wavered, indicative of the fact that she was only looking after her duty as the school disciplinarian. Harry gazed at her, right into her eyes, with a blank look, one that made her shiver a bit, before turning to stare at Dumbledore.

"What can I do to make me trust you?" asked Dumbledore exasperatedly, unable to fathom where this form of Harry had come from.

"Ah! Now we are getting somewhere. You could start by swearing an Unbreakable Vow topped by a magical oath. Unless you agree, I have nothing to say to you."

Dumbledore could never believe the nerve of Harry, and he couldn't believe that he was allowing the boy to dictate the terms of the meeting.

"Mr. Potter, you are hardly in a position to dictate terms to me! I am the Chief Warlock, the Supreme Mugwump and the Headmaster of this school! Please behave within your limits."

Harry still stared at him unnervingly, and then silently, with a mere twitch of his wand, summoned the Elder Wand. Dumbledore had barely gasped at the act when the youngest seeker of the century caught the wand and broke it, but not cleanly. There was a sliver of wood which held it together.

"Mr. Potter! What have you done! That wand was mine by right and by law!"

Harry simply ignored him and made a cut on his left palm. Holding the wand pieces, he let drops of his blood onto the places where the break was seen. Then he pointed his wand at the broken Elder Wand and incanted, verbally, "Reparo!" The wand sealed instantly, having received the blood of the Peverells once again. He then took the wand and placed it in his robe pocket, before turning to Dumbledore with the same stare. "I know what it is. I know that it is mine, now, by right and by law, but it was always mine by blood. The wand will only work for me and my descendents, assuming of course you do not kill me before that."

Minerva could no longer hold herself. "THAT'S ENOUGH, HARRY! FOR THE PAST FIFTEEN MINUTES WE HAVE ONLY HAD A GAME OF ACCUSATIONS BETWEEN THE TWO OF YOU! THIS-" she quailed under the menacing glare he gave her.

"So, thief and treacherous Vassal, are we now in a position where you will have the terms of the meeting dictated by me?" Harry asked with the silky, eerie voice he had used while confronting Lucius Malfoy. "I will have my will enforced whichever way I need to, Headmaster. It is your choice. If you want to be my enemy, as every single one of yours and your stooges' actions have proved, I will call Judgement on you for your treachery."

"How do you know that the House of Dumbledore is a Vassal House to yours?" Dumbledore asked with gritted teeth.

"That's not for you to ask, Vassal Dumbledore. You should have realised that on the day of the Equinox itself." Harry was enjoying toying with Dumbledore. "You have not answered. Will you comply with my terms, or should I call judgement?"

"You do not want to trust me."

"Stop toying with me Vassal Dumbledore. Will you comply with my terms, or should I call judgement?"

"I fear that this is the path to the darkness, Harry. I appeal to you, the real Harry Potter, not the one influenced by..."

"Please cut the crap. I will ask you again. Will you comply with my terms, or should I call judgement?"

"If you wanted to call judgement, you would have done so by now."

Harry inclined his head in acceptance. "That is true. But you are useful to have around as long as Voldemort is around. You are not a Death Eater – yet. I ask you for the last time. Will you comply with my terms, or should I call judgement?"

"Do your worst."

Harry shrugged. "Alright," he said simply. He summoned his Patronus, and said to all, "Tell my men to destroy Nurmengard with Fiendfyre, but to bring the prisoner alive to Britain to testify against Dumbledore..."

"NO! You cannot do that!"

Harry ignored him and instructed Padfoot, "Go to my special contact and give my instructions- dig up all the dirt you can find on Albus Dumbledore. I will pay you double. Print a book and release it periodically, if you can."

"No! I agree! I will give you the Vow and the oath!"

"Decide Dumbledore. You won't get the chance again."

"I will give you the oath and Vows."

"Deputy Headmistress, if you'd consent to become the bonder, please?" Minerva was still shocked. Harry roused her by shaking her shoulder. She could only nod.

"I, Minerva Rowena McGonagall, do hereby execute my duties as bonder for the Unbreakable Vows between Albus Wulfric Percival Brian Dumbledore and Hadrian James Potter.

"Do you, Albus Wulfric Percival Brian Dumbledore-"

"- Promise never to betray me, Hadrian James Potter, or any of those that I consider my friends or family, and to keep all our conversations secret, and never let Severus Snape know anything that I speak to you, directly or indirectly?"

"I do."

"Do you, Albus Wulfric Percival Brian Dumbledore-"

"-Swear to resign from the posts of Chief warlock of the Wizengamot during the next session, and also from the post of the Supreme Mugwump of the ICW, and the membership of the ICW, with immediate effect, and without any reasons?"

Potter was taking away his power! He wouldn't! Harry just glanced at the Elder Wand in his other hand, and then pointed the five-core wand at the Patroni. Dumbledore acquiesced in defeat. "I do."

"Do you, Albus Wulfric Percival Brian Dumbledore-"

"- Swear to never hurt my family and friends, and me, knowingly or unknowingly, directly or through anyone, or in any way indirectly?"

"I do."

"Do you, Albus Wulfric Percival Brian Dumbledore-"

"- Swear to be just and to allow justice to override whatever view you have for the world, whatever plans you may have?"

"I do."

"Do you, Albus Wulfric Percival Brian Dumbledore-"

"- Swear to not meddle in my decisions, and to only provide advice and suggestions, and not to compel me and my family and friends into acting in any particular manner?"

"I do."

"Do you, Albus Wulfric Percival Brian Dumbledore-"

"- Swear to stop all attempts to control, influence or manipulate Hadrian James Potter, Neville Francis Longbottom and family, Hermione Jean Granger and family, Sirius Orion Black, Amelia Susan and Susan Charity Bones and Remus John Lupin, as well as anyone in the Bones-Potter-Longbottom alliance in the Wizengamot?"

With extreme pain, Dumbledore replied, "I do."

"Do you, Albus Wulfric Percival Brian Dumbledore-"

"-Swear to answer every question related to Voldemort truly and without hiding or omitting anything? Do you swear to not keep secrets from Hadrian James Potter in that regard?"

"I do." Dumbledore let out a long suffering sigh.

"Do you, Albus Wulfric Percival Brian Dumbledore-"

"-Swear to help exonerate Sirius Orion Black from the charges that you have helped frame on him, as well as any other false charges to his name, unless you are physically or mentally unable to?"

Albus' eyes widened and turned sorrowful. "I do."

"Do you, Albus Wulfric Percival Brian Dumbledore-"

"- Swear to keep your duties to the students of Hogwarts at the forefront and try to protect them to the best of your abilities and not to be blinded by your political positions and ambitions?"

"I do."

"Do you, Albus Wulfric Percival Brian Dumbledore-"

"-Swear to end all contact with Severus Snape , direct or indirect, including through portraits? Do you swear that you will not initiate contact with him, and will not reply or respond to any contact that he initiates?"

"I do."

"Do you, Albus Wulfric Percival Brian Dumbledore-"

"-Swear to remove all mind and memory altering magics from every teacher in this school, barring Severus Tobias Snape, and never to perform such magics on them again?"

Albus stared at the boy who was chipping away at his ancient and decaying wooden self with a metaphorical chainsaw, unable to articulate the response immediately. "I do."

"Do you, Albus Wulfric Percival Brian Dumbledore-"

"-Swear to always keep Fawkes the Phoenix close by, and to listen to his advice?"

"I do."

"Do you, Albus Wulfric Percival Brian Dumbledore-"

"-Swear to not attempt to bring the Death Eaters to the light?"

"I do."

"So shall it be!"

"So shall it be!"

As the flash of light receded, Minerva asked him scathingly, "Are you happy now?"

"I'd say so. Yes. I am happy that I no longer will have to care about this... _person_ trying to murder my family. I am not done yet. I want a magical oath on your life, magic and soul from you that you have never had even one Horcrux, and that you never intend to make one, and that you never intend to cheat death, by any dark or light magics, including the use of the Philosopher's stone; that you have not stolen any magics and knowledge or wealth and treasures from the Houses of Potter, Gryffindor, and Peverell I also want oath that you did not sanction, nor were you party to the murder of Lord Charlus and Lady Dorea Potter, as well as Lord Gerald Longbottom; that you did not voluntarily allow the attacks on James, Lily and Hadrian Potter as well as Francis, Alice and Neville Longbottom; that you had no intention to end the Potter and Longbottom lines; that you did not sanction, that you did not plan the sacrifice of any member of the Order of the Phoenix, not even to protect your pet Death Eater, Snape, and if you have done so, you will declare these sacrifices to the relatives of those you sacrificed."

"Mr. Potter!" admonished Minerva, flabbergasted.

"The oath please, Headmaster," Harry said firmly, ignoring Minerva. "My Patroni are just waiting to be sent."

Dumbledore looked at Harry with pained eyes. Yes Harry was his weapon, but this much distrust? He had also somehow uncovered the sacrifices by the Order. "I, Albus Wulfric Percival Brian Dumbledore, swear on my magic, life and soul, that I have never created even one Horcrux, and do not intend to do so hereafter. I also do not intend to cheat Death by any dark or light magics, and have no intention of ever using or creating the Philosopher's stone and the Elixir of life. I did not sanction or plan the murder of Lord Charlus and Lady Dorea Potter, or that of Lord Gerald Longbottom. I've not stolen anything at all – material or abstract – from any House nor was I in possession of any heirloom by consent, except the Cloak of Invisibility and the Elder Wand of the Peverells. I'd asked James Potter for the cloak to study it. And I won the wand in a duel against Gellert Grindelwald. I had no intention of _ending_ the lines. So I swear truly!" He then used just the light spell for proof with his old Unicorn hair wand.

"And what about the other oaths, Headmaster?" asked Harry snidely.

Having now thoroughly lost any bargaining chip, he resignedly admitted, "I can't give that oath."

"Albus!" cried Minerva in shock, betrayal and anger. "How could you?"

"It was for the greater good, Minerva. Our society needed heroes. The Order gave them that!"

"Why not become a heroic martyr yourself, Albus?"

"Who'd lead the light, then?"

She could see why Harry had done what he had done. How many of her students had been killed, just for some vision of this detestable man who sat facing her. "I despise you! You will burn in hell!" She couldn't take it anymore. She simply wanted to leave the room. She couldn't face Harry either, having not trusted him.

"Good! Now we can talk. Ask away, headmaster. If I can answer your questions truthfully, I will try to do so," Harry said in an infuriatingly chipper and bright manner.

"What makes you think I would do so?" asked Dumbledore angrily.

"Well, you wanted to meet me. But during the meeting, I have got what I wanted from you, while you have not even one measly answer to any question. But that's fine by my count. I will see myself out."

"Alright," said Dumbledore with a sigh. Nothing was going his way. He had been, for all practical purposes, destroyed. His staunchest supporter had been shown proof – irrefutable proof. "Please cancel your message to your men." Dumbledore wondered when the Potter boy had collected supporters and minions to do his dirty work, and when he had learnt about the man imprisoned in Nurmengard.

Harry waved his wand and with a cheery smile said, "There was nobody near Nurmengard, Headmaster. I bluffed."

Somewhere to Dumbledore's right, Phineas Nigellus spoke up. "Oh! That is something right up the alley of my house!"

"Thank you, noble ancestor. I hope to live up to your praise for the son and Heir of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black."

"You are a fine young Heir despite being a half-blood, boy."

"And that is where you are mistaken, grandfather. For one, as Lord Slytherin, I know the truth. Salazar was a halfblood too. There is only power of the individual. There is no power in bloodlines preserved by the notion of blood purity – quite the opposite in fact. The...ah...purer the bloodline, the quicker it lost the gits of family magic. All newbloods, as Salazar called them, are progeny of those born through squibs. Magic remains in the DNA, dormant in the bloodline, with each non-magical descendent of the squib – till the magic of another house activates it. My mother was born to parents descended from squibs born to the families of Marchbanks, Friedmann and – one more. That is a family that I am ashamed of being related to."

"It is not the Gaunts, is it boy? All of them were inbred fools," asked the portrait of Dilys Derwent.

"No. Thankfully, it is not them. No. Since the last head of the family is sitting with me in the flesh, I would hate to name the family," he replied, turning his gaze to Dumbledore, who jerked at that.

"Lily- Lily was related to me?" he asked weakly.

"To my utter shame, and I am sure, to that of my mother as well, if she ever knew this fact, yes. Your father Percival Dumbledore had a squib uncle. His only daughter married a squib from the Friedmann family. They had two sons, one of whom was magical. He died in the war against Grindelwald. They took the name Evans to stave off the persecution from his family. My grandmother's mother was a first generation squib from the Marchbanks family."

"Is it wise to divulge to this disgrace of a man such sensitive information?" asked Phineas.

"I took the trouble of binding him to several Vows and Oaths grandfather. Now I can and will tell him. His pain will make me happy. He gave me the utmost pain by destroying my family. Now he will know what it is to cross me." He gave Dumbledore the easiest grin. It felt so good to be in control. Then he had to remind himself why this was being done.

"I am so proud," Phineas said. "You are worthy of having the Black name. A Black bows to none, even though Bellatrix, Narcissa, Regulus and Sirius brought shame in one way, by bowing to another, and Andromeda in another by rejecting purity."

Harry preened before answering, "And once more, you are mistaken. The Black family gift of Metamorphmagi was being lost with not a single Metamorphmagus in five generations. By marrying a powerful, unrelated wizard- for the lineage of the Blacks chiefly makes them to be just a tad bit better than the Gaunts when you marry cousins- Mrs. Tonks gave the line an opening again, allowing the magic of different families to flow through the Black family again. Her daughter is a Metamorphmagus. The Black family made a mistake by disowning Andromeda."

"Is she?" asked Phineas, surprised. "This is most interesting."

"Indeed it is. And as for Regulus, brave, wise Regulus, he did not bow. Regulus was the lion among the snakes. He sacrificed himself in the hopes of destroying Voldemort. He brought good name to the Black family, perhaps not by specifically becoming a Death Eater with the intention of betraying the Dark Lord, but with that very end result. Do me a favour, Grandfather, and tell those in our ancestral home to remember Regulus and his sacrifice, and that the Lord and Heir of Black pay homage to him. I plead that you keep it secret."

"Indeed. You forget I am a Black, impertinent child. The loyalty of Blacks-"

"-Lies with family, first and foremost; I remember. Toujours Pur."

"Yes. Indeed, Heir, you shall carry the name well. What about the two girls?"

"Narcissa and Bellatrix did bring shame to the name. They willingly bowed to Moldyshorts. Sirius brought shame to the Black Name also. He rebelled against his family by bowing to the other Dark Lord, the one in whose midst I sit. He is trying to redeem himself."

"You are calling me a Dark Lord, Harry?" Dumbledore whispered.

"Call me Lord Potter, Vassal Dumbledore. I am calling you a Dark Lord because that is what you are - actions speak louder than words, you know. Let me tell you that having a phoenix bonded to the castle too, doesn't make you a good person. I wondered how Fawkes put up with you, but I knew he was cursed, something I remedied. It is good, though, to see that you have not lost the use of your mental faculties, at least completely." Dumbledore looked like he had been slapped, which Harry would have happily done.

"Why do you insist on creating enmity between us, Harry?"

Harry did not respond. He just stared at Dumbledore, grimly, firmly.

"Mr. Potter, why do you insist on creating enmity between us?" Dumbledore asked through gritted teeth.

"That wasn't too difficult, was it? I have to say that you are nearing the end of your existence's relevance. You are neither wanted, nor are you needed. To answer your question, I am not sure exactly which Dark Lord I am supposed to vanquish. It is funny how both you and Voldemort don't let me live. I can't live as long as either of you survives. And I swear, as long as I survive, neither of you will live, truly live. You both seem intent on killing my family, friends and me. The fact remains that getting you out of the picture is for 'The Greater Good.'" It had the desired effect on Dumbledore. Harry had used the wording of the Prophecy to a very peculiar effect. He had ensured that it would seem an off-the-cuff remark, but used the wording to keep Dumbledore off-balance.

"Harry, please keep things constrained to the Wizengamot. I have no intention of being in **_his_** presence for too long. And I sure as hell am not leaving you alone around him," interjected Minerva. Harry inclined his head in a nod to Minerva. Her presence was a good thing. Her shock and the proof that Dumbledore had betrayed his own minions had destroyed any hope that the man might have had. There was a long protracted silence. Harry was not going to come forth with information voluntarily. Dumbledore was not going to let things go and bow down and ask questions, if only to hold on to his pride and ego. Minerva was left to be a spare prick as she watched two men with seemingly infinite patience having a battle of wills.

Dumbledore broke, knowing that he had an adversary hell-bent on his destruction. "Why did you go behind my back and order the researches into the Dark Mark?"

"For one thing, I did not go behind your back, and even if you consider it so, your opinion is meaningless. I am your Liege Lord, Headmaster or not. I was given a boon by the Garnarukran Nation for services rendered, and I asked for the research into the Dark Mark by their best Curse-Breakers _in conjunction_ with the DMLE sanctioned research by the DoM."

"But you have put a Death Sentence on them, isn't that the...AAAAAAAA," he ended in a high-pitched wail clutching right above his heart.

"That is the pain indicating your attempts at manipulation and trying to bring them back to the light. You know, when you die- and I think that these Vows and Oaths might claim you- I will make sure that there will be quite a few plants growing around your grave. I will take a piss on and around your grave every day. You wanted me dead for your thrice damned Greater Good, and when it has been proven that they are all Horcruxes, you want to save the D.E.s? It is quite amusing. You know, Granny Min, I don't have anything to say to him."

"I don't, either. I will make sure that you are never in the same room as him, unless it is at meal times or in a congregation of some sort. I once thought you to be a good person, Albus. Now... now you disgust me." The two left, Harry having to keep a tight hold on his shields to avoid smiling.

Dumbledore sank his head into his palms. It was obvious that he had lost all control of the boy. Very suspiciously, Fawkes flew in at just the same time and crooned. Why did that infernal bird always stay away when the Potter brat got the better of - met him and encountered the wrong Albus?

* * *

"Why were you so confrontational, Harry? We could have left much earlier!" Minerva groused.

"That is the point, Professor. He was not the real Albus - the one who was present in the Wizengamot on the Equinox session. I fully intend to release him from the Vow if we can dispell the curse. Till then, for a man, who is clearly not in control of himself, to hold any power over anyone will be too dangerous. This was all done to remove him from Snape's immediate contact and vicinity."

"So you don't hate him as much as you said?"

"I don't care for him, really. I just don't want him to be an impediment on the path to beating Riddle once and for all. It has been impressed upon me that Dumbledore is not a bad person, probably. So at the moment, it is necessary to remove the bad influence."

* * *

Harry returned to the Gryffindor common room when adrenaline started draining out of his bloodstream. He looked positively sick, alarming Hermione, Neville and Ron who were awaiting his return. Harry had to ignore them and rush to the toilets to vacate his stomach. It was nearly dinner time when he felt well enough to speak. He still looked very weak, but somehow managed to go through the dinner before returning to the Gryffindor common room.

"What _is_ the matter with you?" Hermione demanded.

"What she said," concurred Ron. "You went to meet Dumbledore and then when you come back you are losing your innards all over the place..."

"Ron!" admonished Hermione.

"Would you lot mind if I told you everything tomorrow? I was sick because of adrenaline. I had a big showdown with the old whiskered wanker..."

"You two have such potty mouths!" Hermione said, stomping her foot.

"You had one more showdown? Doesn't he know when to stand back?" Neville asked, ignoring Hermione's consternation.

"Why are you calling Dumbledore an old whiskered wanker?" asked Ron, totally out of the loop.

"Oi!" yelled Harry. "I told you that I'll tell you tomorrow. This is neither the place nor the time!"

* * *

The four gathered in the Room of Requirements the following day after breakfast. Harry had framed Neville in a very thin layer of ice to wake him up before Ron did. It was a simple fact of life for them – the two were Marauders. Neville retaliated with stinging hexes and suspiciously present clay, mud and stone anywhere around Harry. When they were done with the madness (the twins and Hermione, already awake, gave the two suggestions for pranks), Harry gave Neville Hermione's note and asked him to play along. He would have to flatter Ron a fair bit. The plan was to tell him as much truth as possible about the Weasley family.

"This room is bloody brilliant!" Ron exclaimed as they sat again in the Gryffindor Common Room replica. Harry, Hermione and Neville completely ignored that.

"What happened, yesterday, Harry?" Neville asked.

"I told you that I'd a showdown with Dumbledore. Well, let's just say that after the tenth of October, either of you, Gran or I can legally kill Snape."

"WHAT?"

Harry asked for a pensieve, and poured his memory of the discussion of the previous evening into it for the other three to watch. When they were done, Hermione was biting her lower lip, an action that always drove Harry insane. "Harry, you know that those oaths might get Dumbledore killed too, don't you?"

"I know," Harry thought. "What makes you think I care?" he asked in feigned irritation, which Hermione caught on to.

"WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE?" Ron had had enough of being out of the loop. He couldn't make head or tail of Harry's behaviour, though evidently, Hermione could.

"Don't shout, you git! I can hear you quite well!" Harry retorted. "Why don't you tell me whatever it is that is bugging you, and I answer it question by question? However, before I do that, you will have to swear to never, ever, even in anger, blurt it out or make any reference to it. Truthfully, I would prefer it better if you swore to work on your temper problems so that you will never break your oath."

"Why?" asked Ron, perplexed.

"Very good," commended Harry. "You are starting to question, instead of just accepting my word. The answer is, that several lives, and the entire war against Voldemort depends on what I know." Ron started to open his mouth to protest, but Harry raised a palm to stop him. "No. Let me complete. What I will tell you is something I have only told two people I trust more than anyone else. It is absolutely necessary to keep it a secret. Trust me this once."

Ron grudgingly acquiesced, while Hermione and Neville followed suit, only promising to keep what he said secret.

"Now go on. Shoot," Harry said. Then he looked confused for a second and said, "Well, don't ask. Just hear me out."

"Whenever you have made up your mind, mate," Ron quipped. Harry glowered at him.

"Well, let's start with, well, the boggart. You remember what I had seen?"

"Yes. I do. There were all these dead people..."

"Yes. Well, I know that what I will say now may seem insane, but it is true. Anyway, I will lead you towards the answers. Tell me what you know about magically sworn godparents."

Ron looked infuriatingly bewildered at this topic jump, but replied all the same. "When people are magically and by blood sworn to be godparents they always have to stay true to their godchildren. They can't be traitors. Why do you ask?"

"Remember what you just said, and remember your Vow to not let your anger get the better of you."

"Ok?"

"Sirius Black is my magically sworn godfather, and also my blood adopted father."

"What? But this is impossible! Everyone knows..."

"Ron, stop. Nobody knows anything. Remember, you are under oath to keep this secret. Sirius Black is my godfather. He was framed by Peter Pettigrew, who is not dead. I have caught him. And it was also I who broke Sirius out of Azkaban." Ron looked at Harry with eyes large as saucers and his mouth was a gaping black hole that none of the other three wanted to look at. "I know that you won't believe me, so here goes." Harry swore on his magic that what he said was true. "Do you believe me now?"

"What were the Ministry doing? How could you catch the rat if they couldn't?"

Harry wondered at Ron. He was asking very pointed questions.

"Well, now you have come to the point. Remember your Vow. You remember you lost Scabbers?"

"Yes?"

"I bought him from your dad."

"YOU WHAT?" started Ron and the winced in pain. "Ow!" The Oath had come into effect.

"Ron, calm down. Let me again lead you through to several answers. How many years do rats normally live?"

"I don't know mate, maybe four or five years."

"How many years was Scabbers in the family?"

"Twelve."

"How many years ago did Peter Pettigrew disappear?"

"Twelve."

"'Scabbers' wasn't a normal rat. He was Peter Pettigrew, an animagus. I had told your father, Bill and Percy. We were worried about any of you getting arrested. So by Bill's consent and your father's permission, all three of them had their memories modified. Here, look at this." He poured the memory of the arrest of Pettigrew into the Pensieve. When Ron emerged, he was wearing a truly horrified look.

"He...he slept in my bed all these years. Scabbers did it!" It took some time to get Ron out of his horrified state.

"Now you will ask how I know all this." Ron only nodded. "Remember, I started acting oddly around the time I brought Ginny out of the Chamber? Well, I somehow, had memories or knowledge – whichever you prefer – of the future. And the boggart was showing everything that actually did happen in the future. Neville, if you could show us the memory of my boggart please?"

He pointed at each Death Eater. "These are the Carrows. That is Bellatrix. That is Antonin Dolohov. Yes. That's Pettigrew, and he actually did bring Voldemort back. You know how – there are more of those things like the Diary and my Scar. And all of those dead bodies are the last memories of 'that' Harry as I call him. Fred died. Your dad almost did too. Everything went pear-shaped. Bill was bitten by a werewolf named Fenrir Greyback."

"I know him!" Ron said. "Wait! He bit Bill? And Fred died?"

"Yes. Bill was going to get married a month later. Fred was killed by some Death Eater in battle. I never knew what happened to you, because you were defending another part of the castle with George. 'That' Harry's last memory was going into the forbidden forest to sacrifice himself to Voldemort, because of the scar."

Ron's look of horror did not abate. "It may have been another you, mate, but, were you bloody mental?"

"I have asked myself the same question many times since then. You do get the basic point, don't you? A whole war started because of Pettigrew."

"Bloody hell!" swore Ron.

"Indeed."

After sometime, Ron collected himself enough to ask, "What happened to the rest of us?"

"Now remember, I can't tell you everything, okay? When Voldemort returned, Percy pretended to have a big fight with your parents, and cut off all contact. He was spying for our side in the Ministry. Charlie was still in Romania. Bill had returned to England. The twins had given Hogwarts a final prank in our fifth year. It was only Ginny with whom I had a problem."

"Why?"

"She dosed me up with love potions."

"WHAT?" This was news to all three of them. Hermione now officially had a corner of her mind that hated Ginny Weasley.

"Yes. She was caught. That is why I have immediately made a magical Vow to always treat her like a sister."

Ron spent some more time trying to digest that bit of information, before suddenly saying, angrily, "My sister isn't good enough for you?"

Harry was sorely tempted to say yes, but instead whimpered. "I can't ever think of her that way! She looks like my mum!" Neville sniggered, but Hermione and Ron both turned very green. "Just as importantly, I **_hate_** being controlled by anyone, and potion-dosing is the same," he growled menacingly, dangerously.

"Forget I ever asked that!" Ron said, shaking his head like a dog, trying to drive away the sickening idea.

They were all quiet for some time. "What happened to me?"

"Well, you joined the Quidditch team in the fifth year, instead of now. You also had a girlfriend. All I can tell you is that she was blonde. And she wasn't Luna. Fenrir Greyback killed her," he told him solemnly.

"You have changed things, haven't you? You don't remain quiet," Hermione observed.

"I did." The papers of the days after the 22nd appeared in front of them. "'That' Harry did not have the basilisk rendered. So it is obvious what happened. See the Death Eaters? They are most likely to be Kissed or killed. These people, barely two hundred in all, killed more than a thousand magicals and another thousand mundane. This Umbridge woman became our Headmistress after they removed Dumbledore. They character assassinated me, telling everyone that I am a liar when I told them that Moldyshorts had returned. She also killed several newbloods and their muggle relatives. I felt very happy to see her dead."

"Blimey! How didn't you go barmy after this?"

"I told you, I broke Sirius out and caught Pettigrew. Their trial will come up soon. And I have Uncle Moony and you lot here. So it helps. Do you have any questions?"

Ron only shook his head. They all moved around the room, when Ron asked, "What is it with Lupin?"

"He was bitten by Greyback when he was young."

"HE IS A WEREWOLF?" Ron yelped in fear.

"Yes. Think, Ronald! Would you have treated Bill with fear? Moony is my uncle, my family!"

"Oh."

They remained in silence for nearly an hour, each assimilating the new information, including Ron who was doing so needlessly. When he showed signs of nodding off in boredom, Harry stunned him and placed the geas without a releasing trigger, silently.

"You never meant for him to know," remarked Neville.

"Do I look like a fool? I told you what he was, in the end."

"Foolishness comes in all shapes and sizes, my foolish little friend." Neville tried to quip but shut up when he saw Harry fingering his wand. "Why go through the session?"

"I didn't place the geas on you, did I? I mean to give you two little nuggets of information every now and then."

"Show off," muttered Hermione.

"You love me for it," Harry replied cheekily.

Hermione only turned and blushed red.

"Anyway, the reason why we are all really here- the two of you, that is- is because I have made tremendous changes to the timeline. I was wondering whether it would be wise to tell you and show you- well, not everything, but most things. I have been running on that knowledge for some time. I mean, my nature has changed radically, that won't change back, but I have now run out of anything that hasn't changed. And also, Amelia's action to take out all the DEs in one go blew up the whole thing in my face."

"Are you sure about this, Harry? Is it wise?" Hermione was again proving to be the one who would moderate his impulsiveness.

"Yes. No. I don't know!" yelled Harry in frustration. "I want to, but I truly, simply don't know what I should do. Right now, I would want Padfoot here truly. He knows everything. But I want to be truthful to both of you to."

"But you told us a lot, didn't you?"

"I did. But there were some extremely grave situations, situations in which I nearly lost you both, Sirius actually died and so did Moony. I am trying to be different, but what if I have changed things so much that the war now will start earlier than for 'that' Harry? What if all my knowledge turns out to be for naught? What if I lose you, really lose you? I won't be able to bear it. I don't want you tortured by Bellatrix, Hermione. And I don't want you to be tortured by the Carrows, Nev. What if I have made things worse instead?"

Hermione realised that Harry was afraid. She also realised one more thing. When he had gotten the memories, Harry had experienced them. And that meant every fear was very real for him. He had lived those situations and had been plagued by the corresponding emotions.

"Why don't you show us just the more important events?" Neville asked. "We can analyse every change that you have made in context to the events that occurred in that timeline," he suggested. "I truly think that it will be easier for you."

"It isn't as easy as you think Nev. Let me tell you what happened to Susan. But I have to give you some background before you can realise the full scope of what happened. Amelia was killed in the summer after the fifth year. When Dumbledore told me about the Horcruxes during the sixth year, he had told me to only tell Ron and Hermione, for some reason, but I had told you too, of course, without anyone else knowing..."

"Wait- Sixth year?" asked Hermione. "He had known about Horcruxes all along and you handed one destroyed Horcrux to him, and he told you about those things in the sixth year?"

"Yes. His hand was cursed and he had less than a year to die, not that he told me about that either. I looked up to him, 'Mione. He told me about those things only after he realised he was going to snuff it. I was the plan B."

Harry could see that Hermione had gone into a contemplative mode. "So it is highly possible that he never intended to die then. He was raising you like a pig for slaughter!"

Harry snorted.

"What?"

"In those memories that Snape gave me just before he died and then I or that Harry died, Snape said the exact same words – 'Raised like a pig for slaughter.' And that is true."

"So you have destroyed his plans totally now."

"I think so, yes."

"The nerve of that abominable man!" shrieked Hermione shrilly. "He was making you Frankenstein's Monster. With Sirius dead, and almost all your friends being distanced from you, he made you have no reason to live!"

"That is exactly what Sirius and I found out."

"Senile old bastard!" muttered Hermione.

"And stop!" commanded Neville sharply. "You have promised that you will look at things another way. And we now from what he told Professor McGonagall, that it may not have been his original plan. Secondly, it might not have been about the plan B, but about him somehow breaking the curse however late."

Harry muttered something unintelligible and subsided. He was till having problems with Dumbledore's probable innocence.

"What happened after that?" asked Neville. He had a look of a person assimilating several facts.

"We had planned to make Hogwarts our base and keep searching. But Hogwarts fell after Dumbledore died, and then on the day when Ron's brother Bill was to be married, Moldyshorts took over the Ministry. You and Ron had slipped under the radar, but Hermione and I were Undesirables. Ron dropped out of Hogwarts to come with us. We were forced out. You were leading a vigilante group in the castle and were protecting people- you had for all practical purposes become the guerrilla general. But Susan... she faced something worse than Death."

"You mean...?"

"Yes. She was abducted and taken to the Slytherin rooms. You weren't in any sort of relationship, but you found out who had done it from the Carrows' taunts. You never told me who did it, but we had decided to draw out their torture when Voldemort was taken care of. And none of us could do anything immediately because that would mean drawing undue attention to her while she was traumatised. You had rescued her- you, Luna and Ginny. Luna was abducted by Lucius around Easter. Susan fought in the final battle, but it was, you know, the kind of fighting that people with nothing to lose do. It was almost as if she had become our side's Bellatrix."

Neville sat down heavily. He had confided in Harry about his growing crush on Susan, and part of him wanted to murder the bastards who had done that to her. And then he had to temper his temper with the knowledge that the perpetrators had done nothing at all yet. He could understand Harry's fear now. Where would they draw the line?

"Was Malfoy involved?" Hermione asked.

"As I said, I didn't know. But by then all of the Slytherin boys had become Death Eaters, even Theo and Blaise. But I started with the assumption that the git Malfoy, who had recognised you, Hermione, when we were caught, was the sort to instigate such things. He was the first to get the Mark. I freely admit that I wanted Draco to die at that time. The Debt claim was made keeping that in mind. Any move towards the very ideas of Riddle will see him killed. I am honestly surprised that he has lived this long."

Hermione sucked in her breath as she realised where Harry was coming from. He wanted revenge, and he had done something terrible. For the moment, Draco was nothing but a stupid bigoted fool. Harry had reaped revenge for something that happened in another timeline. "I think we should go slowly. Show us one year at a time and increase the dangers. Neville, don't worry about Susan. A very important change has occurred already- Voldemort has no support. Most of the Death Eaters are going to be killed, except for some who will be saved to preserve the status quo. Show us the third year, Harry."

Harry nodded. He poured his memory of the third year into the pensieve. "Now, Neville, just remember, Pettigrew was also the one who betrayed your Uncle, Caradoc, and probably murdered him. He was also the one who betrayed your parents. Remember that. And Hermione, I am truly sorry. You will see that I was a right berk for much of the third year. We weren't really close during this year, Neville. In fact, the fact that we were brothers and friends was kept secret most of the time from our fifth year. I was an unsafe person to associate with."

By the time the memory ended with Hermione and Harry flying in on Buckbeak, Neville's mood had brightened considerably. "A ride on a Hippogriff eh?" he teased. "Did you ask her to be your girlfriend or something?" Hermione was back to the standard Weasley red that she attained easily of late. Had Harry asked then and there, she would've said yes.

"No. Things went worse after that faster than the escape velocity for earth. Heck, they went bad faster than light." He poured the fourth year memories. "I have purposely omitted the memories regarding the man who was involved in the worst of times of that year. He is someone you must have revenge on, Neville, just as I must have revenge on Pettigrew. I have told Amelia about this one. You get to kill him at the right time."

"How can you speak about killing so easily, Harry?" Hermione asked in fear and not a little revulsion.

"That is the point, 'Mione. I only want to kill the people who will not think twice before torturing us, driving us insane and rip off any dignity before killing us. The DEs don't deserve to live. Just go on watching, and you will understand." The two watched the memory of Wormtail and Voldemort at Riddle Manor first. "That scar gave me a connection to Voldemort. You saw how the POV changed between a snake and the baby thing that was Voldemort? It was because of that bloody soul-piece. The snake was a Horcrux too." He then poured in the memory of the World Cup fiasco, the Triwizard Tournament, Ron's behaviour and the three tasks (the second was glossed over) and the graveyard.

"You survived that?" Neville asked as Hermione had once more enveloped him in a crushing hug, as if she wanted to ensure he was safe.

"In a way, yes, I did. It will be correct to say that I experienced that."

"The dragon; you bloody flew around a Hungarian Horntail! And this git," (here he aimed a shadow-kick at Ron) "knew about it and almost had you killed!"

"I did; and he did. This time if things happen that way, I am going to try and woo the female dragon," Harry said with a smirk. Neville was confused for a moment, then grimaced. Hermione looked just as confused and then burst out laughing.

"You are a bloody gutter-mind, aren't you? A fourteen year old going after a several hundred year old female! Ewww!" Neville said grimacing even more.

"What about the resurrection ritual? What were the mechanics?" Hermione asked, carefully navigating away from the subject and the next two 'tasks'. She really wasn't up to feeling jealous of a dragon. And contrary to popular belief, she could take a joke.

"Sirius checked up on the ritual. The point was to have a completely scared enemy. The nine-month long tournament in which I was supposed to fear for my life would ready my blood for the ritual to be performed on the Summer Solstice."

"Bloody hell!" swore Hermione (!).

"Indeed. Now see the fifth year." He showed them flashes of things, Umbridge, Dumbledore's behaviour, the DA and the Inquisitorial squad along with the detentions right up to Christmas. It built a crescendo for their anger.

"What business did the old coot have, wilfully ignoring you?"

"He was convinced that the scar would possess me and that I would attack him. He was not completely wrong." He added more memories – the breaking of Azkaban, the attack on Arthur Weasley, and the Occlumency lessons.

"THAT UTTER BASTARD!" started Hermione in a burst of fury. "THAT IS THE DEFINITION OF FUCKING WITH YOUR MIND! HE MADE IT MORE OPEN TO VOLDEMORT!" The boys stared at her in open mouthed shock. Miss Prim-and-Proper Granger had just cussed. She did not stand down. "What? He did do that!" Neville and Harry exchanged glances and decided to agree with her, and also to never talk about it again – ever.

"Ah well, he is that. Anything you found that I have missed?"

"Yes. McGonagall," Neville said. "She wilfully ignored you all the time, yet you are behaving in a very familial manner with her. Is it another example of setting someone up, like you are doing with Red here?"

"Astute, Neville," Harry acknowledged with a smile and a bow. "But no, I am not setting her up, per se. She is one of Dumbledore's sheeple..."

"Harry that isn't very kind!" admonished Hermione.

"But it is true. Most of the so-called 'Light' witches and wizards are sheep that have chosen the old wanker as their shepherd. The 'dark' ones chose Moldyshorts. Now with the power that you, I and Sirius wield between us, we chip away at each flock. When our flock becomes larger than, or at least as large as the others' we can start fighting against the shepherds. McGonagall isn't someone I trust. I call her Granny Min. Why? If you have observed, she has become proactive in her protection to her House, teaching and overall approach to her students. She is simple, fair, clever, honest, but not wise. That, in the interim, works just fine. Anything else to say?" asked Harry, smirking.

"Well, there you have gone and changed things," Hermione said after a long silence. "Most of those in Azkaban have been interrogated and then executed. And as far as the scar is concerned, you won't have the dream again."

"You don't understand, Hermione. What if by removing the scar I have removed a source of information?"

"At the cost to your own life?" asked Neville with a snort. "Didn't think you were that dim, mate."

"Don't you understand sarcasm? That is the problem Dumbledore is flummoxed by. I am convinced of that. Why else would he have kept the thing in my scar and send me to die? Mind you, he feels bad about the 'Death Sentence' on the Death Eaters."

"Oh." Anger boiled up within Hermione and even Neville, each of a different sort. Even Neville, trying his level best to be the voice of reason found it difficult to quell the immediate reaction. Harry then put in the last memory of the fifth year – the battle at the Ministry. It was in excruciating detail. "All of the DEs who fought against us are either dead or in jail. Pay close attention to Snape. When you go in, check your watches from the time I tell Snape in Umbridge's office to the Point where we get help in the Ministry. And Hermione- I am, again, sorry for not listening to you."

Hermione looked at Harry at the 'check your watches' part, but Neville nodded in understanding. Pensieves worked faster than real time, because the dilation experienced was through the thoughts and working of the brain of the person whose memory it was. It was like an internalised time-dilation field. Both were ashen faced when they came out.

"Six sodding hours!" shouted Neville, as he kept touching his nose to reassure himself that it wasn't broken. "The greasy bastard took up six sodding hours to tell the Order!"

"Exactly!" agreed Harry. "That alone convinced me that he was firmly Moldyshorts' bitch."

"He has to be taken care of, doesn't he?"

"Yes. I wrote to Gran last night before turning in. She is going to declare a blood feud on the House of Prince after Granny Min told me that the remaining two Princes- Albert and his son Sebastian, both DEs, are dead. The plan was to have Sirius to do it, but I figured that the sooner Snape is out of our way, the better."

"Fair enough," agreed Neville.

Hermione had sat still, with an unchanged ashen-face throughout that little snippet of conversation. It was not the injury, per se, but the feelings that were in the memory, feelings that emanated from Harry that had shocked her (memories always had feelings associated with them- memories without the accompanying emotions were one of the ways in which false memories were detected. Such memories were unnatural). The severe loss he had felt, loss that she was still feeling, the grief that permeated through her - grief that originated from Harry - told her all that she needed to know. Over the time, she had also realised that Harry had felt what could be one definition of Love, but had never known it, and had therefore never understood it. She decided that once his obligations started reducing, she would help him understand. At that moment, he was worried about different things, and needed her support as his best friend. Other things would come later.

"Hermione?" called Harry as he roused her from her musings. "I am sorry for getting you injured. I mean, you did punish me all of sixth year, but if you still want to do so, I will not say anything."

"What do you mean?"

In answer, Harry unloaded the entire sixth year focussing around her. "Just watch. Neville, care for a game of exploding snap? Hermione may not exactly be a happy camper once she comes out. You go in Hermi." He got a stinging hex to his arm for that as Hermione plunged in.

As the boys settled for a game, Harry stunned Ron again.

"You really don't like him, do you?"

"You could say that, but he is being a bit decent right now, though I am still wary. Right now, though, I did it for his safety. Hermione is likely going to kill him after she is done watching those memories."

"Oh?"

"She was mooning over him, and he had a girlfriend – Lavender."

Neville threw the cards away. "I have to see this. It is an excellent teasing opportunity – simply unmissable." And before Harry could protest about Neville's death wish, his friend plunged in. Harry decided to busy himself writing eulogies for Neville and Ron. They were agonisingly short. So he wrote one for himself too. It seemed his forecast was right. Neville was ejected out of the pensieve forcibly and he promptly hid himself behind an extra cupboard that he wished for. Ron still lay stunned.

Harry was like a deer caught in the headlights. He became the immediate and obvious victim of the blunt force trauma that Hermione's anger could cause. "Tell me that it was a prank." Her voice was cold enough to make global warming turn tail and hide. Harry was of course, frozen. "Tell me that it was a prank," she repeated.

"It was... a prank?" Harry asked unwittingly in reply, causing Hermione to advance to him. Harry had to sacrifice Ron. "No. It wasn't a prank, 'Mione. Remember what I told you that day on the Astronomy tower? That was partly to do with the memories also."

The next moment, Hermione was lying on a bed she had wished for, and was emulating Dobby whenever he wanted to punish himself. At least she was hitting her head on pillows. "YUCK! GAH!" she shrieked into a pillow. She then sat up and looked at Harry and Neville (who was peeking from behind the cupboard) balefully. "If anything of that sort happens again, you are going to take me to a mind-healer."

"You look traumatised enough to need one now," Harry offered. The glare she shot him was enough to make him want to join Neville behind the cupboard.

Hermione broke out into a rant. "How in god's merciful kingdom can I fall for **_Ron_**?" She said 'Ron' as if referring to an unmentionable horror. "I was going about like a... a dirty woman after a guy who had a girlfriend!" She rounded on Harry. "What were you doing?"

"I was potion-dosed by ickle Gin-Gin," he said with raised hands.

"And what was he doing?" she asked, pointing at Neville, naturally, as if he had been one of her best friends all along.

"Perhaps I was running away from you in terror?" he offered, hoping that she would accept the reason for his other self.

Hermione seemed to ponder about that, and apparently agreed, for she nodded. "But that was **_Ron!_** How can I like Ron, like that? Was I dosed too?"

Harry decided to cut Ron some slack for the time-being. "You surely weren't dosed with **_love_** potions. We had checked. It is possible that she did something else. I mean, seeing that you were my best friend, she might have decided to take you out of her way." He carefully left out the fact that Ron had been accomplice to his sister. He would let her decipher what he said as she wanted. He also decided not to tell her about the 'Twelve Fail Safe Ways to woo your Witch' book. He mentally noted: " _destroy the books_."

Hermione scowled. "I will teach that bitch..."

"Please don't call her a bitch. Both Sirius and I are dog animagi. I don't want her to be my female at all, and I am pretty sure that Sirius is no cradle robber or, you know, touched in the head!" Harry pled.

Neville was frowning worse and worse. "There is something wrong."

"What?"

"There is something insanely wrong," repeated Neville.

"WHAT?"

"I have an idea about what you're going to say, but remember, it was Snape the controller. It may have been a combination of both their actions."

"I am using logic, Hermi," he said, dodging her hand as she made to swat him. "No; listen. Take the third year of that timeline. You **_and Ron_** could go to Hogsmeade – Harry couldn't. Why? Dumbledore was his magical guardian, but Sirius could allow him to do it? How? Then, take the fourth year. Ron betrayed him, but **_you_** bringing Ron in made him forgive the git. Why did you do that? Would you have forgiven Ron? Even in the second task, Ron was what Harry would miss? I don't think Harry is gay, not that there is any problem with that. It would have been you – damn it, even at this moment it **_is_** you!" Both Hermione and Harry blushed. "Take the fifth year. Harry was traumatised watching Diggory die. Is keeping him alone with no contact to stew in anger, fear and guilt the right thing to do? You would not write to him on Dumbledore's orders? Even I have read about PTSD and survivor's guilt, Hermione. Then all of fifth year, you **_and Ron_** were prefects, when clearly, Harry would have been the obvious choice. He was left alone to be tortured by Umbitch. Did you have a girlfriend then, Harry?"

Harry blushed. "Yes. But that girl will never be my girlfriend. Cho Chang was my girlfriend. She found me as the replacement to Cedric. And it was a bad first and last kiss too – she kept crying. Anyway, as far as I am concerned that will never be – she is an excellent prank target, she bullies Luna."

"Indeed. So you were being conditioned towards Ron. And in terms of emotions and feelings which you cannot learn from books – or if you do, then you learn the stupid muggle mushy novels, the sort Harry's mum had given my mum. That leaves you open to suggestion." (Hermione made to protest here, but both boys gave a succinct two word answer– "Gilderoy Lockhart!")Now consider what happened at the end of the year. You **_and Ron_** went with Harry, as did Ginny, Luna and I, to the DOM. You got hurt. See the pattern? You were always in _adventures –_ or to put it more correctly – in dangerous situations with Harry. You weren't allowed to be seen as girlfriend material, to put it bluntly; but it also was a way to show you that Harry meant bad luck. And I will tell you as a friend, but let me be brutally blunt. I like you, but I'd ever like you that way. You are too robotic, too mechanical."

Hermione seemed to wilt when Neville said that. Not because of who id it, but because of what he said.

"And it is one of the biggest reasons that you are less powerful. Magic works on emotions and intent. You try to analyse even your emotions, instead of allowing yourself to flow. Anyone wishing to manipulate you will take advantage of that. You might have felt that Harry was not a good 'option' for safety reasons. The two boys you interacted with the most, Harry and Ron were your only choices. One was deemed unsafe. Who remains? And Ginny who can't speak a word around Harry becomes his girlfriend? Potion dosing was obvious. Then there was that potions book. Please. How many people find such books? Isn't it so obvious? You want us to do better – but I have seen the way you envy us when Flitwick teaches us differently. You feel that in spite of knowing that we were both bound magically, and therefore need a higher course load. How would you feel if you decided that he cheated? You were driven away from him even more. Do you know the reason? Someone wanted Harry dead – and if he lived, Harry would be off the dark path, whatever it was. You would find ways for him to live, for him to have something to fight for. I wonder whether getting Ginny caught using potions was also a manipulation aimed at destroying this git. It would cause Harry to be repulsed by the very idea of love. What was done to you both is called conditioning."

Hermione was sobbing by now. "But why?" she asked.

"If it was a manipulation by someone on the 'light side'... well, you know that pureblood lines are dying out, don't you? You would be infusion of new blood into an ancient bloodline, resuscitating it. Harry as a powerful, but half-blood wizard would be the same. I find Harry's way wise. Don't trust them. I know the Life Debts he claimed. I see the reason why now."

Harry was seething. He had thought of this, but it was good to have confirmation. The two boys had to comfort her as she sobbed.

"There is little old me, the 'other option' for the snake and the bat. With Harry dead, it falls to me to do things. I did not have any confidence ever, and what little I did have was smashed by the dungeon-bat as early as he could start. What would have happened? Of course Voldemort would win. There is nobody to stand up to him!" He thought of something. "Who can create Portkeys out of Hogwarts?" he asked.

"O-Only t-the Headmaster," she answered.

"So how could fake Moody, whoever it was, create a portkey to the graveyard?"

Harry gasped. Dumbledore - no, Snape, mot probably; he had to remember that it was Snape and not Dumbledore who was a Death Eater and could have lived with having Voldemort back - had made Voldemort's revivification possible. Which meant that Snape had known. Of course he had. "THAT BASTARD!" he shouted.

"Exactly!" agreed Neville. "You know that we will have to take care of him, don't you?"

"Not before Snape," answered Harry. "I have promised to keep the old coot under observation after we do away with the bat."

Neville answered with a grimace. "I. Am. Talking. About. Snivellus."

"Yes. Him. But we get to keep old man whiskers under observation."

"You do that," the Longbottom Heir conceded in exasperation.

"I will teach that little bint a lesson if she comes sniffing around you with any potions." Hermione was seething. "And I will kill the old greasy man with my bare hands. I see now why you detest Ron, even if you don't show it openly. I am sure that you are still keeping many secrets about the whole matter, but I know that it currently doesn't matter."

She seemed to be working up a big rant, but Harry interrupted to postpone it. "Now, these are our memories from the time on the run and the final battle. This will be the last. Make sure that you think about it before reacting."

"I won't blow off on you, Harry, Neville. You don't have to head me off." She said as she plunged in.

And Harry was left alone again as Neville plunged in too. Ron, the poor sod, was going to be pushed under the bus called Hermione's anger, by Hermione herself. He wasn't going to meddle. Hermione was scary as it were.

"That stinking piece of excrement!" shrieked Hermione. "He up and left us!"

"He did. But that isn't the most important part is it? You kissed him!"

Harry immediately regretted that as he received a face-full of Hermione striking him with a low powered stinging hex at point blank range, which made his face look like it had been bitten by a giant mosquito. "OW!" he yelled. "OW! OW! OW! Why, you are a wicked, naughty little witch!" protested Harry.

"Tease me again," Hermione dared. She growled and threatened.

Getting the message, he jumped subjects. "All teasing aside, did you recognise the biggest thing? The point is that the position of four more Horcruxes is known to you too."

"Oh!" said Hermione in sudden realisation. "OH!" she exclaimed again. "That means you know where five of those are! Why aren't you collecting them now?"

"Why?"

"What?"

"Why should I?"

"What do you mean by that? Won't destroying them now avert the resurrection?"

"No. Voldemort **_has_** to be resurrected, or to be precise, has to have a living body, because he himself- the wraith, that is- is a piece of soul. Unless he becomes corporeal, he can't be killed, so to say. The other thing is that I have got Amelia to set up monitors around the only known Horcrux which is not within my control- the one in the Museum..."

"You are wrong there, Harry. If all that is left of Voldemort is his wraith then he need not be resurrected. If the wraith can be trapped..." Hermione trailed off.

"And I suppose you see the problem with that? We have to find wherever that wraith is. I would rather leave that to some Death Eater. Now that we know one of the possible rituals he can use to be resurrected – wait make that two, he can possess someone completely like he tried to do with Ginny – we can start finding ways to botch up the rituals."

"That's wise," she agreed.

"But we need to find all possible rituals," countered Neville, "as well as ways to botch them up."

"You're right. Just when I thought it would get easier..."

"What do we do about the Horcruxes?"

"The diadem is in this very room, and we are collecting it before we get out of here for Christmas. I am setting up extremely heavy Confundus Charms, Repellent charms, Notice-me-Not and other secrecy Wards around a special cupboard I shall ask the room for. That way nobody will stumble across it accidentally. Of the others, the Ring is in the Gaunt shack, which just so happens to be one of my Houses. Regulus kept the locket in Sirius' House. The Cup is already safe – I told Gringotts about it and they found it. They have already started studying it to find how many he really made. My idea was to get help from Moony and Padfoot to create a worldwide marauders' map by getting help from the ICW to use every Ministry's tracers and use one Horcrux as a starting point and trace the others."

"That...actually makes sense," said Hermione in surprise as if Harry never made sense.

"Why the surprise?" he asked. "I am not such a dimwit you know."

Hermione reached up to him, patted his cheeks and pulled them. "Oh, no, you are not a dimwit. You aal k-way-al ickle Hawwy awn't you?" she said. Harry brushed her hand off.

"I am not a child and you aren't my big sister or my mum!" Harry's petulance shocked them for a moment before Hermione withdrew her hand as if burnt. Neville burst into gales of laughter. Harry's confused look made him laugh even more, before both quailed under Hermione's glare. The atmosphere was light, but now the two Harry trusted knew the darkest secrets now.

As they made to leave, Neville asked him one question. "Why are you not telling Luna about any of this?"

Harry pondered over that for several second. "I want to protect her. I trust you both in a different way, and I trust and love her in a different way. Just as Susan was... destroyed, Luna as you know from the memories was kidnapped and was... _hurt_. Luna seemed dotty and still does because she had learnt to hide her pain. I did not ask her about things, because we were so close to the end. But I failed. I failed to protect her, to be there for her when she needed a protective brotherly person around her. I don't even want to give the excuse of not knowing better. She might know some of all this – I always feel that she is like a phoenix, temporally omniscient or something like that. But just to make me feel happy about it, I won't tell her. I want for her to live protected forever; one day I will flex my one-of-those-who-defeated-Voldemort-and-his-harem and boy-who-turns-into-an-Elder-Dragon muscles and scare off any potential suitors she meets, instead of having her innocence destroyed by shits like Malfoy. I may be deluding myself, but that is how it should be." Then almost as an afterthought he asked, "Is it abnormal to think so? Is it wrong for me to keep people wrapped in cotton wool and safe if I can get away with it? I mean I don't want to do that to you, Nev. We have a fight to fight, and besides Sirius and Remus, I don't think I'd trust anyone as much. But as for Hermione after what Bellatrix did to her, or after Dolohov's curse; or for Luna and Susan; I don't want them to ever experience a fight. I still feel like grieving for Teddy Lupin, even though I haven't met the kid- hell even that Harry hadn't met the kid. And he, more than anyone means more to me, even if he doesn't exist. It is like something Sirius told me. He never felt responsible or felt like he lived rather than existed till my dad handed me to him. And here I am, feeling the same about a kid that doesn't exist. And then there are Hermione's parents. I never knew anything remotely resembling parents, and that Hermione had to make her parents forget about her. I stole away her family. Am I monster? Am I wrong? I mean I am only thirteen, and then I just think that I am responsible for people in ways a thirteen year old wouldn't think of. Am I a fre-?"

"You are not a freak!" responded Neville fiercely. "These memories or knowledge or whatever all that is, they have aged you. It is not abnormal at all; in fact if you had not chosen to act on it all, if you had not changed, then you would've been abnormal. What do you think? Now that I know all this, I won't change? I will remain poor bumbling Neville? No. We have a fight to fight, as you said, and we are Gryffindors. We charge ahead and fight the good fight. We will have to work around things. And stop wasting your time being scared of the whole timeline. It won't do anyone any good."

In that moment, Hermione was seeing not her two best friends (she did not count Ron as one, any more), but two Lords readying themselves to protect what they held dear; she saw not two teenagers, two boys, but two men weary of memories experienced and shared and hated. It was frankly eerie and scary, but also a powerful image. It was a memory, an image that would remain with her for all her life. She felt overwhelmed. People and situations were changing very fast.

"I just wish," Neville said with a sigh as the made to leave, "that my parents had been cured."

"I know, mate. I want my godmother and her husband back too. Every person in our really big, extended family is precious."


	35. Chapter 35

**Vengeance**

Over the ensuing days, Severus Snape knew that somehow he was going to be tormented to death. It was only Dumbledore's intervention that kept him at Hogwarts. He was under the 'protective custody of the Chief Warlock' even after Dumbledore had resigned because he had leant a lot on the old man to call in favours. Yet, he somehow knew that his days were numbered. The Potter brat had given the DMLE a viable reason to apprehend and kill several Death Eaters. Walden McNair, the Carrows, every Death Eater lodged in Azkaban, Yaxley, Jugson, had all been dosed with Veritaserum by that despicable Bones woman and had been kissed. And it wasn't just execution - the DMLE was first breaking their minds open and peeling them like onions for information. All his hard work was for nothing. One - _**one**_ \- measly mistake by Lucius, and it had all come crumbling down.

The Lestranges had been kept for the very last for some reason which Severus could not fathom. No doubt on Potter's recommendation, the Wizengamot had had a special session where Madam Turnbull and Madam Longbottom had gotten a motion which demoted and denounced the Houses of every marked Death Eater on the Wizengamot from Nobility for one generation – thereby ensuring that they would not participate in lawmaking. It was evident that it was a well planned move – all Heirs would regain the seats with no repercussions under the oath that they would not support any dark lord, would not subscribe to or propagate any form of bigotry and would contribute to magical society progressively.

Even the so-called protective custody wasn't safe for him. He had been having hallucinations of Lily everywhere, looking at him with unbelievable disgust in his eyes. Twice he had been woken in his chambers to find her punching his gut to bloody pulp. Several times he had found her mouthing expletives at him. She had been before him and said that she wished him a most gruesome death. Hearing her voice, seeing her again had been gruesome enough. HE had checked everything around him for any sort of potion based hallucinogen, as well as any spell based mind-scrambling, but had found nothing.

But that wasn't the worst of it. Somehow, everyone knew that he was a Death Eater. That led to several dirty glances, stares, glares and comments aimed at him – to start with. But the matter escalated very soon. People were regularly dropping out of his classes, opting instead to study by themselves, or under privately appointed tutors like the Potter brat and the Longbottom idiot had done. In fact, all the Weasleys, the Granger mudblood, the Bones girl and her dunderhead Hufflepuff sidekicks, the Lovegood girl had joined The Black woman's classes. He was finding it difficult even for people of his own House to keep them in his class. He had decided that it was the wolf, Lupin, who had done this. He had tried to spread the word that the man was also a werewolf – a dark creature. He found that he couldn't speak it. It was rather obvious what had been done. Someone had cast a Fidelius charm on the information of him being a werewolf, so that even he, who knew the secret could not speak it.

Then there were the continuous, insistent pranks on him, the sort that not even Potter and Black would have thought of. He had had almost every single bone, except his spinal column, skull and pelvic bone, vanished from his body turn by turn. The dratted Skele-grow potion was a pain in every sense of the word. He never caught the person who did that. It had to be Potter – after all, the stupid ponce Lockhart had done the same to him the year before. He never realised that the four new Marauders had come up with a Rune scheme that recharged every two days. This scheme had been painted by Dobby under the doormat using indelible and invisible ink. It targeted all bones except the skull, spine and pelvic bone and made them vanish at random. He also seemed to be levitated the same way James Potter had done. The worst was that he could not put the blame on Potter or his friends or even Lupin because all were very cold with him and stayed completely away. Then there was the time that he had vomited and retched for one whole day, sung the next, had had to destroy his chair because he was stuck to it and had been unable to get himself unstuck fast enough to answer nature's call.

Lupin had expressly stood against Snape taking any of his classes around the full moon, choosing Flitwick instead. Albus had tried to override him, but both the werewolf and the dirty half-breed son of a goblin had stuck to their wands. The werewolf had gone so far as to say "My classes, my choice. Snivellus will not come anywhere near my students." He had used that hated name again. The fact that Lupin was very popular among the students was salt on his wounds and stuck in his craw.

He had tried to complain to the old fool of a Headmaster, but he had had to cut off all contact with Severus to keep up the protection from the DMLE as a part of the deal, as Minerva had told him. He couldn't appreciate that. Why was not Dumbledore just going up to the Wizengamot and getting things done his way? He could then have Severus out of trouble, get Black kissed, and the werewolf executed.

The worst part was the renewal of the spell. Dumbledore and his overgrown chicken were no longer around him. In effect, he couldn't renew the mind-altering spell his master had put on them. Not that it mattered much – Severus knew that the old man was bad enough without the control, but still remained sensible. The only thing that his renewing the spell did was that it would keep him under Severus' control – an excellent bargain for the time when his master would return. Whatever happened to the other Death Eaters, the Dark Lord couldn't do away his man who had wormed his way into Dumbledore's graces and was controlling him. That was how they had started winning the war till Potter, Lily- no, the mudblood- and their little brat put a stop to the war. He had hoped – oh he had so dearly hoped – that the dark lord would kill Potter and his bastard and give Lily to him. But no; the foolish woman had died to save the brat. And Severus had sworn to keep him in misery for the death of the woman who was rightfully his.

Things went from bad to worse for Severus. Lucius was kissed. Draco had finally fallen foul of the Life Debt Potter had invoked. Cissy had gone mad and had been confined to St. Mungo's. That had been announced by the beam of magic and the Eagle from the damnable goblins. The Malfoy line was now forfeit to Potter. He was pretty sure what Potter would do. The boy had had a peculiar look in his eyes, and had very calmly accepted Draco's death without a hint of emotion. He would declare the line dead. Now Severus had also lost his godson.

 **A Few days prior:**

Three days after the Wizengamot session, on the weekend, Draco had been called home. With the Malfoys having had to sell the Manor to cover the debts and outstanding transactions in the Balance Sheet, it was only a two storey cottage in Norfolk that was left to the name. Draco could not control the sneer that erupted on his face when he realised where they would be forced to live. It was all the fault of that hal- no. He had to stave off the thought due to the life debt – it was Potter's fault too.

"Come in Draco." Narcissa's tone was tired and worn.

"Mother," Draco said formally as he acknowledged Narcissa.

After a light tea and refreshments, Narcissa sought to speak to Draco. "We have to go to the court tomorrow to attend your father's sentencing hearing. Before we do, you have to remember something. It is very likely that he will be sentenced to Death..."

"WHAT?"

"Silence yourself!" Narcissa softly but venomously ordered. "Your anger is a big problem in and of itself. As I was saying, your father will likely be sentenced to Death for his Death Eater activities."

"But he was imperiused!" Draco protested.

"I take it that you haven't read the Prophet in the past two days. It was impossible to take the Mark without being in complete control of oneself. He was a Death Eater. He raped muggleborn and muggles, murdered and pillaged and was a remorseless criminal..."

"You lie!"

"Do not interrupt me, Draco! What I say is true! And I've followed his principles! Though I wasn't marked, I have believed in the same actions! Somehow, there is a new Lord Black, who has made Harry Potter – The New Lord of Potter, Gryffindor, Peverell and Slytherin – the Heir of Black, and has tossed us out of the House. We are disowned."

"NO!"

"Yes. Potter's grandmother was Sirius' great-aunt Dorea. He's just as much in line for the House as you were. I know who the new Lord Black is. Sirius always was different..."

"Mother! We cannot let the son of that mudblood-grk!" It was the last sound Draco Malfoy ever made as the Life Debt took effect. Draco was dead before his eyes rolled into his head as his magic left him and he slumped to the ground. Narcissa's shout of "Draco!" was never even heard. Thus ended Draco Regulus, the son of Lucius, the last born of the House of Malfoy; the House's magic forfeit to the House of Potter.

Narcissa went into shock. A part of her mind was asking how Draco even lasted three months. The other part was in control. It realised that her son was dead. And it was her last sane thought.

The following day, there was nobody there to collect Lucius' body as he lost his soul to the dementor.

 **Back to present time:**

The calmness on Potter's part did not mean that he left the dead untouched. The Parkinson girl had been in tears for quite some time. "Are you happy now, Potter? Are you happy now that you have killed my Draco?"

Potter had looked at her calmly, before answering, "I am honestly surprised that he lasted this long." If there was ever a way to silence the whole hall without a charm, this was it. But then Potter had decided that Parkinson could turn into a big threat for his and him. So he had immediately bound her with a similar Life Debt. It was obvious that Potter would give no quarter. It was not surprising, really. Goblins were thorough when they destroyed their enemies. Now he had proof that he could and would claim life-debts, and lives if anyone put a toe out of line.

Severus was very scared. So many of the Dark Lord's servants were now dying gruesome deaths. How many days did he have left?

Then there was the infernal Cheshire grin the Longbottom and Potter brats wore the day after the full moon. It had been something that he had seen Black, Potter and Pettigrew do before. He knew they were all animagi. As much as he tried to resist though, he had to commend the control over their magic that those two cretins had. Even he or even the dark lord hadn't done it – though the Dark Lord probably didn't need that kind of magic.

The most terrible part of it all was when he had to keep ignoring the Gringotts' Eagle himself. After Albert and Sebastian died, he was the lone Prince left. The filthy creatures kept contacting him to take up the mantle of the head of house. And he knew. He had known ever since the showdown the old woman Longbottom had had with Dumbledore that she was looking for a chance to have him killed. And to take up the Headship, he would have to get out of Hogwarts. He wouldn't do that at all. He hadn't anticipated the Potter brat's planning.

* * *

On the tenth of October, the Wizengamot session saw a momentous development. Amelia released the list of every magical person who was either killed or missing during the first rise of Voldemort. People were astounded to see the sheer number of purebloods killed for being blood traitors. Even though most worried about the newbloods and halfbloods as an afterthought, it firmly fixed the majority (90 %+) of the Wizengamot against the Death Eaters. Amelia had also procured an economic study of the magical society in the decade from 1971 to 1981 and the twelve years after. Most of the neutrals saw how the ideology had hurt businesses. Most had been burnt themselves and just needed the reminders. The study and the names had both been released to the Daily Prophet, and it had been ensured that the story was spun to portray the D.E.s and Voldemort as people who were hell-bent on destroying families. Most magicals were sheep – they would accept things as they would come and if most others accepted those things. So a tremendous media campaign to root out or at least create doubt regarding the support to the DE agenda in general was on the cards. A public newsletter called 'The Magic of Facts' had been established by Augusta to supplement the existing media after the Equinox session. It was a weekly newsletter, and it kept people apprised of facts without any comment. Just like the magazines, this was first introduced and popularised in Hogwarts before it was expanded to the general Wizarding public.

The most shocking announcement of the session was the declaration of the blood feud on the House of Prince by the House of Longbottom and the Houses of Potter and Gryffindor. In that moment, Severus had been caught in a vice. He could not get out of the castle for fear of being caught. Inside the castle, he was now facing a blood feud. It was obvious that everything had been managed with the view to kill him. There was no way he could stay out of the situation. The situation was no longer of his making. Unfortunately, Severus did not know of this till the following day, the 11th of October. By that time all four nemeses of Severus Snape were stood facing him. Madam Longbottom and Neville (for the House of Longbottom) and Hadrian and Remus (for the House of Potter and Gryffindor) stood against Severus Snape, arrayed in duelling clothes. The Minister, The Director of the DMLE and The Chief Witch of the Wizengamot were in presence. Dumbledore had, after all, resigned the previous day. This wasn't to say that Dumbledore hadn't tried to intervene. It had taken the pain of the Vows, the threat of Judgement and Gran complaining to chief witch Marchbanks to get him to stop. He had still been showing dramatic disappointment, which nobody really cared for. Harry was worried that Dumbledore would try and find some manner to stop the – as he called it – farce. Minerva and Flitwick had been tasked with keeping all the boys' friends safe and together (including any and all alliance Heirs), while Sprout had been tasked with keeping tabs on any manner in which Dumbledore could and would make life difficult for them.

They knew that this would not be a normal duel. This would be a duel unto death. None of the feuding people were under the impression that this would be an easy battle. Snape had been an accomplished practitioner of the Dark Arts, and he was an experienced duellist. Just charging up on him would be madness. So Harry had decided to register Nightflame. The plan was to draw out the duel as much as possible with by allowing Snape to send in the maximum curses, goading him to send darker and more powerful curses which would tire him out quicker and faster. Similarly, conjurations took a lot out of the caster, something they knew first-hand. When he would show signs of sagging, Harry would transform into Nightflame and burn him. Plan B was getting closer and closer to Snape and nicking him or stabbing him with the Basilisk Venom impregnated Sword of Gryffindor (which Neville, as Heir to the House could do too). Then there was the use of spells in Parseltongue or other beast-languages, as well as Glenskrad. It was something that Harry and Neville had practised with Moony, ever since the boggart. Moony had fired spells at a maddening speed which the boys had had to dodge. The Room of Requirement also could become time dilation fields. Neville's plan was quite different. He intended to use his Elemental Powers, something that both Harry and Moony were against. The elemental powers were a greater secret than animagus forms. But Neville had shown them how he could keep things secret even while using his powers. They had found the RoR to be an exceptional resource. The boys shared plan B, but Neville was more likely to succeed with it if he could call the sword, because he was far stronger, physically than Harry was, even though they were magically equally powerful, and far powerful than Snape was.

Harry was nervous, but the others were more so. And in his nervousness, he remembered exactly which nerve of Snape he had to hit. He shared the trick with Neville, who had to fight to hide his grin. It was sneaky and he liked it. Snape would have to be defeated mentally as well as magically. The duel was to take place on the Quidditch Pitch. Amelia and Flitwick had set up the arena for them to fight in. Moony was whispering words of encouragement. Harry and Neville had taken two Pepper-Up Potion doses which Neville had brewed in anticipation. The bastard, Snape was going down, once and for all.

Hermione was keeping a calm facade out of necessity, as was Luna. Arthur and Molly had come to watch as well, and they were sitting with their kids. It was difficult for them to watch Harry or Neville faceoff against a Death Eater. These were people they did not want to lose. Amelia was in a similar situation. She desperately hoped that Harry or Neville would win. She did not want to be the bearer of bad news for Sirius. The Alliance members too sat, chiefly, to judge the power of their new member. They knew that both boys were working on the premise of the shock value of the announcement. Thankfully, nobody had told Padfoot. Harry did not want the mutt to have this honour. Many of the students were working on the premise that if Harry won, they would be shot of the potions master forever. Snape had hardly a few Slytherins in his corner. Even people like Nott had not taken his side, though he had chosen to call it a sport publicly and said that it would be interesting to see two powerful people face off against each other. He was the consummate Slytherin after all.

"Members of the Wizengamot, Honourable Chief Witch, Minister of Magic, Heads of Departments, Teachers and Students of Hogwarts, we are here to witness the resolution of the Blood Feud against the House of Prince, of which Severus Tobias Snape is the last Head, by the Ancient and Most Noble Houses of Longbottom and Potter, as well as the Ancient and Noble House of Peverell and the Most Noble Houses of Gryffindor and Slytherin. Mr. Snape is accused of, with sufficient proof as deemed by the Wizengamot, of murdering the late Lord Gerald Longbottom and the late Lord Charlus and Lady Dorea Potter. He had also given the reason to attack the Longbottom and Potter families to the Dark Lord. It resulted in the Deaths of Lord-presumptive James Potter and Lady-presumptive Lily Potter. It also resulted in the attacks on the Lord-presumptive Francis and Lady-in-waiting Alice being attacked. The claims by the Longbottom and Potter contingent have been deemed worthy by magic to claim the life of Severus Tobias Snape in recompense. We express hope that justice shall prevail.

"The rules of the duel are now stated. The duel will be a fight to the Death. No Unforgivables will be used. There will be no interaction between the audience and the duellists. Audience members already have all their wands and any other weapon confiscated. Duellists are allowed to fight only with magic and swords. No other item, such as poisons or potions may be used." Ludo Bagman was in his element as he announced.

Harry and Neville had an impromptu best-of-three game of rock-paper-scissors to decide who would duel first. Harry cheated. He allowed Neville to check what he would choose by Legillimency and chose something else instead to win.

"Lord Hadrian James Potter will fight for the Longbottom-Potter contingent." Harry strode up to the arena, keeping his mind entirely clear of any thought and emotion. The only singular objective was to honourably destroy Snape once and for all. He did not want anyone to be lost to save the bastard.

For Snape it was a dilemma. He had told Dumbledore that he would protect Harry, but now faced with the choice for his life, he knew there was no promise he held dear. He was caught in between a rock and a hard place. Would Potter win, he would die. Should he lose, Severus would still be executed in dishonour. In every manner, he was a loser. Perhaps the Potter brat was worthy of the Slytherin name after all.

"Duellists, please pay respects. Now take your stance. Start the duel!"

Harry immediately made his move. He transformed into James Potter by the glamour charm and also a powerful compulsion to make the greasy one believe that he was James or Sirius, or whoever else he transformed into. It was risky, and a little cruel. It did the trick. Snape felt the goading and taunting of his arch-nemesis, the one who had stolen the mudblood from him. Snape, who was eyeing him in an inscrutable manner, trying to gauge his style and spells, lost his cool immediately. "POTTER!" he roared. He let out a barrage of Sectumsempras aimed at his nemesis. The ploy was working for Harry. Normally Snape would have let Harry take charge, expecting him to go without a plan. But a Slytherin never did anything without a plan. Within just the first ten spells which Snape had overpowered, the Potion Master was getting winded. He had cast a bone-breaker, a blinding curse, Dolohov's special curse (Disruptium) and just pure raw energy. Harry hadn't sent even a single spell at his opponent till then. When he finally started, he sent a small spell chain – a slicing hex (Diffindo), a battering spell (Verbero) and a Reductor curse, along with a haphazard barrage of stunners, silently or in Parsel, or Glenskrad. Long years of being cooped up in the dungeons had taken their toll on Snape. He was panting a bit as 'James' smirked at him.

"Come on now, Snivellus! You're all talk aren't you?"

It riled Snape again. He sent a blood-boiler at Harry which he deftly sidestepped. 'James' rumpled his hair with a grin. It was deliberate. The more Snape was reminded of his enemies, the Marauders, the more he'd lose his calm and make mistakes.

Up in the stands, people were amazed at Harry's proficiency in silent spell-casting. He hadn't uttered a word yet. Amelia decided that it was a pity that Harry was not particularly interested in being an Auror. He was keeping Snape on his toes, and for a twelve year old against an accomplished Death Eater, it was a big achievement. The Weasleys were torn between worry and fascination. Percy saw the casual power that Harry wielded. The twins, Ron and Ginny had their big wish. The Greasy Bat of the Dungeons was getting his comeuppance. All the same, it was scary for them. They were asking themselves the same question that Dumbledore and many from the Ministry and Wizengamot were. Where did Harry learn to cast that way? It was however, not the contestants, but Hermione who had drawn first blood. Her rapidly reducing fingernails (she was alternating between chewing them and digging them into her face) had carved niches into her cheeks. Luna sat hugging her. Luna knew that what Harry and Neville were doing was absolutely necessary for them. That did not make it any less scary for her. The Alliance, and the members of the Wizengamot who were seated, noted the power. That, coupled with the political power, would make the young Lord a force to reckon with. For the other students though, this was something they just couldn't describe.

Harry now transformed to Sirius. If there was one person Snivellus hated more than his father – and that meant, hated somebody that tad bit more than infinity – it was Sirius. This time he took the offensive. He summoned all of Snape's wands (there were three on his person) and the small silver knife he held silently and before Snape had so much as moved, banished them towards him, impaling him with the knife. The wands clattered to the ground as Snape dove to evade. He made a flailing motion and retrieved two wands, but Harry had sent an incinerator jinx at the third. Snape sent a javelin-barrage spell at Harry, who caught two of them in his left shoulder. Harry chopped them off in the rush of adrenaline, and quickly sucked a bezoar. He trusted Snape to send poisoned Javelins. Even as he did so however, he used the one thing that would rile Snape up even more. He silently cast "Levicorpus!" It was a prank spell and did exactly what it was supposed to do. It riled up Snape so much that when Harry released him with a silently cast Liberacorpus, Snape was riled up enough to start shooting darker and darker curses even as he was sprawled on the ground. Entrails-expelling curse, skin stripper, and a curse that burnt the inner organs away; Snape brought out his full D.E. repertoire of spells. It was then that Harry started firing darker spells himself. He first of all cast several vanishing-spells on Snape, those that were aimed at his bones. One connected to his other hand, thereby making him handicapped for the rest of the battle. He then cast an area devastation spell Pervasto as the man tried to get up. It shattered one of his wands as Snape rolled away. But as he did so, he cast a bludgeoning hex Obtundo, which Harry caught in his stomach, breaking two ribs and shattering another. It knocked him to the ground. Harry was for once in his life thankful for the Dursleys. He had developed a fairly high pain threshold. That injury set him off. He cast transfiguration magic which turned all the ground beneath Snape to quicksand, also from the ground.

The audience were gasping as rather simple spells were being used to devastating effect between the two duellers. Several girls and even the younger boys were shrieking and shouting and nobody paid them much attention. Unfortunately for the audience, the Dementors did. It was much like the match against Hufflepuff. The emotions were running high, and the Dementors were attracted. As Harry tried to get up, he felt the cold pervade him, and he saw the dementors. It was now instinct. Snape had sent a flurry of curses even as he sank deeper, which Harry only just dodged. People were trying to get their Patroni and it was bedlam. This was never the part of any plan that he had. So he released a bolt of magic and struck Snape true, just as Snape worked to overturn the transfiguration. He was coming between him and his duty of protecting his school, the one built by his noble ancestors. The man was down but not out. And those moments were enough for Harry to transform and cast his Patronus Charm. His Patroni were more than just projections of his family – Padfoot took the chance to pretend urinating on Snape in his canine style before flying off to face the dementors. Prongs, Mione and Firewing followed suit by clattering their respective hooves and paws into his head before flying off to do their protective duty and face the dementors. Trouble he may have had with the form, but Harry would always, at heart remain the all-action Gryffindor, however much he could be sneaky like a Slytherin. The rush of battle-aided adrenaline sent his draconic consciousness into overdrive and he transformed into Nightflame faster than he had ever before.

The dementors were creatures without brains. They worked purely on the fuel of emotions. They sensed the sudden change. They made a beeline for the students. Little Astoria and her sister Daphne, who sat beside Hermione and Luna, were all in their grasp as was Colin. And Harry hadn't returned to let anyone die. Nightflame roared.

Emotionally charged the situation might have been, but even the Dementors had survival instincts. They now had their mortal enemy against them. Nightflame let out an almighty burst of fire, incinerating several dementors that were encircling the pitch. He never realised as he stepped on Snape and crushed him to death – as antithetical, anticlimactic an end for the vile man as could be imagined. He heard the cries. Astoria was as usual being terribly affected and was close to being kissed. He gobbled up all the dementors tormenting the spectators with a swipe. Astoria was falling as the dementor that held her lost its hold. Daphne started falling just after her. Nightflame extended a wing and let the little human and her nest-sister fall onto it, before setting them done on the ground. By this time several people had got a respite from the dementors, most of which were fleeing. There were Patroni all around. Nightflame spat the dementors he had gobbled up and burnt them too. He then roared very loudly. It had the same effect as a concussive hex to shock and calm people down. He checked all around him. There were no souls lost, for he could feel them all. He saw as many souls to judge as people. But those vile creatures had invaded his territory. They could not be left alive. He gave in to instinct. He took flight.

He searched all around Hogwarts and Hogsmeade and burnt every dementor around – from the mountains, in which the cave Sirius had once lived in was, down to the river far off to the south, and equally far to the east and the west. Only when he was sure that there were none left that he returned. He let out a roar for all to know. It was his territory. The creatures that lived were his to protect. Any attack would mean swift death. He let out an enormous blast of fire into the sky, and roared again, before turning his attention to the man responsible for what had happened. Fudge, that day learnt the meaning of the Hogwarts' motto Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titilandus – Never tickle a sleeping dragon. The Minister pissed himself and fainted.

Nightflame looked away, down to where the crushed body of Severus Snape lay. The dragon would never let another's body defile his territory. He breathed fire on it and burnt the corpse to cinder. The audience flinched. They had seen the most gruesome end to a life, and the destruction of dementors. The ashes of the Dementors snowed to the ground, making it vile and black. Nightflame would not have it. He set the ground around him on fire and sat within the flames, feeling the power of his judgement and penance for the life taken. No one moved – no one could. Everyone was transfixed by the sight before them. The Dragon had made Hogwarts his home again.

When the flames died down, the Dragon was back to his pure matte black. Nightflame now lay down like a huge dog, before Harry felt comfortable enough to transform back. He cut a rather heroic John Rambo-esque figure as he stood up in his ripped clothing. Then realising what had happened, he ran up to Moony yelling, "Moony! I flew!"

For the next few years, everyone could see Thestrals.

* * *

Harry woke up, once again, in the Infirmary, this time having had to re-grow one rib and mend two others. He immediately knew there was something wrong by the grim manner in which the people gathered around him were looking at him. It was scary. Harry sincerely hoped that nobody had been kissed. Only Moony had no grimness to his face. He was of course celebrating the Death of Severus Snape. And he was trying not to laugh – again – at Harry's first reaction. In the years to come, that would be Remus' single most memorable memory of Harry. "Moony! I flew!"

Neville and Augusta were waiting to a side. Neville was miffed – he wanted revenge. He would have to be told about Crouch. Harry would not interfere in that fight. It would be something Neville would need to do himself. Hermione was getting the crescent shaped cuts on her face healed. She had also, Harry observed, had her two front teeth reduced. She was once again glaring at him. A dragon he may have otherwise been, but in human form, the girl had the power to scare him into submission.

On the other side was Dumbledore. He looked like he was petrified. The man had a shocked look on his face and was almost entirely too rigid. Madam Pomfrey was bustling about him, making arrangements for him to be transported to St. Mungo's. Now that Harry thought about it, he couldn't fathom his own behaviour. True, Harry did not see eye to eye with him, but as he thought to their last altercation, he couldn't believe what all he had said and thought. He did not really hate Dumbledore, as much as he detested his actions. Why then had he had that reaction? It was in stark contrast to both their behaviours outside of Hogwarts – in the Wizengamot. They had had a really sensible discussion. Why did he have this reaction? Why was there such an animus between him and his headmaster within the auspices of the castle? Harry was terribly confused. This was just not done. Had Snape done something to him too? It would seem so – the best way to ensure Voldemort's victory would be to ensure festering differences between him and Dumbledore, the very people that others would look to defeat Voldemort, as they had done in the O.T.

He made to get up, but found that he couldn't – the javelins were poisoned, but the poison was something of Snape's own invention. It was one of the intricacies of conjuration. Anything that one believed to exist could be conjured. The Gamp's law that governed conjuration of food worked for poisons too – but as ever, magic was as much about intent. The conjured poison would magically wear off, but if it had spread to the bone, it would have destroyed Harry's arm permanently. The bezoar had contained the spread of the poison, but it had not contained the action of the poison itself. Madam Pomfrey had had to remove much of the flesh which had contained the poison to prevent the poison from overriding the bezoar's effect.

To his other side, Astoria and Daphne were sobbing as they recuperated from the ordeal of the near loss of their souls. He reached for his wand as he glanced at them and then Neville, who understood what he wanted to do. But Neville shook his head.

"You shouldn't do that Harry." Moony was unusually grave (even for him) as he said it.

"Why?"

"Tell me why dementors affect people so badly?"

"Must be their memories of something, right?"

"Partially, yes; when people have terrible memories etched into their psyche which they cannot let go of, those memories become the ultimate point for the dementors to latch on to. The Hampers will treat their symptoms, yes, but they will not treat the reason, the cause. It will make them even more susceptible to damage over time. It will be like the anti-depressants muggles take. Eventually they will be addicted to the Hampers, like a drug. They can be given chocolate, to help them in the short term, but they have to overcome their demons on their own," Moony said in a low whisper.

"Oh." Harry could accept what Moony said, it made sense. "Won't that be true for Padfoot also?"

"Yes and no. Yes, because of the same reasons that it is true for Ms. Greengrass and Ms. Greengrass. No, because Padfoot already has had help in battling his demons. I have been writing to him since the day of the boggart lesson. You see, his biggest fear was you blaming or rejecting him. By breaking him out, by showing him that you were his 'Pup' so to speak, by accepting him as your adopted father, by making Amelia available to him, and by showing him that you, I, Amelia- all of us need him, you have driven away his chief fears. Plus, with the proposal for the Wizengamot that he is writing, he has found his role in your life. He also knows everything that we do, because you have made sure to include him. So even though he is alone for a lot of time, he knows how things are working, he knows he is wanted and included. Your Hampers therefore serve to relax him and to reassure him, instead of working as symptomatic cures. They are indicators of your presence."

It made sense. And it reaffirmed what Harry had felt the first time he had told Sirius everything. Sirius needed reassurance and he was getting it.

"Has anyone told him about the duel? He is going to prank me for a month after I took away his chance at Snape."

"Do you really think that anyone would _dare_ tell him that you duelled against Snape to the death, got injured, crushed Snape under your feet when you transformed into Nightflame and burnt all the dementors around Hogwarts and Snape's corpse to crisp? No, thank you. A werewolf – and a strong one at that – I may be, but Sirius has the famous Black Wrath, and I am not sure I want to face that."

Harry flinched and winced. "Well he will know anyway. I'd rather that we told him instead of him knowing from the Prophet or something. As of now, best have Amelia do it. I am sure that she can calm the old dog down in- um... _other ways._ "

"Yuck! Cub! There is a limit to which anyone wants to know about their friends' personal lives, and this crosses the limits."

"Oh? Tell me about it. Amelia dropped terrible hints just before I got onto the train. I am thirteen. He is my godfather and adopted father. It is against the Universal Rule about Parents! How cruel can you be to a poor kid?" Moony burst out laughing. "Oh yeah, go on, laugh why don't you? Let us see if you keep on laughing when I introduce the 'Handsome DADA Hunk'." It was now Harry's turn to laugh as Remus paled.

As the St. Mungo's staff came in to transport Dumbledore to the Hospital, Hadrian asked, "What's the matter with him?"

"I have no idea whatsoever. When you killed Snivellus, he screamed in pain, clutching his head and heart, and when you burnt the corpse, he went into a shock of some sort."

"You don't think he made a Vow to protect Snivellus, do you?"

"No. Had that happened he would have died instantaneously. It is something else for sure, that much I can say."

"Did the Dementors get him or anyone else?"

"No. Not as far as I can tell, at least. Nightflame got every dementor. And the ones closest to trouble were the two Greengrass girls, Hermione and Luna, and Colin. I will ask Minerva to perform a check along with Madam Marchbanks."

Harry looked at Remus with a sudden light in his eyes. "Madam Marchbanks! Wizengamot! Thanks for reminding me! Moony, please call Madam Longbottom and Amelia please. Call them fast."

Amelia and Augusta rushed over. "Aunt Amy, I think you should now tell her about the Crouch father and son. But before that, today gave an excellent opportunity to destroy His Poncy-ness, Minister Cornelius Fudge!" He emphasised the point that several students as well as members of the Wizengamot were kissed by Dementors which _Cornelius_ had posted at Hogwarts. Amelia saw where things would go and the two ladies nearly ran away with the idea. She in turn told him that she had tagged the Crouch pair and explained the situation to a seething Augusta. Neville's mood had a definite upturn when Harry told him about Crouch Jr., and confided that he had been instrumental in the resurrection of Voldemort in the O.T. The Only other time Harry had seen Neville that happy was when he had been asked to work on the gardens of Marauders' Place. Neville was still hell bent upon using his elemental powers. So they reworked the plan a bit a lot. Since the tag was working, Neville would, with backup by trusted Aurors, go to the Crouch home and duel the two. Amelia decided to 'buy' Winky's from Crouch to ensure that she did not intervene and harm Neville. The Aurors would be given prior information. Neville himself would act as the informant, and take the Aurors to the Crouches. Neville accepted that – he didn't care for a wide spectacle of the duel. All he cared was he would get to kill at least one of those who had done a number on his parents.

With the discussions about all other things done, Remus asked Harry, "How do you feel now, cub?"

"Cathartic, I guess. I am not at all happy that I had to be a killer, and I feel bad about that. No scratch that. I feel dirty, defiled and horrible. Then I see the dungeons which the bat will never haunt. I feel confused. But I don't feel any remorse whatsoever about killing Snape. You know what I was doing, don't you?"

"I would place a mean galleon on you baiting Snape."

"Yes. I cast mind spells on him, making him believe it was Dad, Padfoot or you fighting against him. Those f-ing dementors, they made me change my plan!" Harry groused.

"Oh?"

"Yes. I had only gotten through to making him believe I was Sirius. I intended to magically exhaust him, before fighting him as myself for a bit. But I wanted to destroy him totally. His filthy DE hide should've been tortured from inside. His last breath drawn should have seen Lily Evans-Potter killing him. I wanted to toy with him, destroy him mentally and psychologically before his death. Nightflame should have never made an appearance. I didn't get to gloat, and I had a speech ready which I would deliver after decapitating him – no arms, no legs, no hair and no wedding tackle. Then when he was so incapacitated, I wanted to help him to his next great adventure by a slow disintegration curse. Lily Evans doing that would have killed him. For him, mum hating him was akin to Azkaban. He thought he loved her or something," Harry told the werewolf, with a moue of disgust.

Remus had known of this. But to hear the way Harry verbalised his hatred, his plan for killing Snape and the disappointment that seeped through the boy's voice at not being able to torture the late and unlamented Potions Master made him shudder. The clear indication that Harry was studying the Dark Arts was a very scary prospect. This memory was to be shown to Sirius in person. He knew what Harry had said when he had told him Sirius had adopted him. It meant Harry was just as much a Black as he was a Potter. And all Blacks had a mean streak stretching to the ends of the universe. They just chose to show their meanness differently – but always showed it in spades when they were destroying an enemy. They revelled in it. They took pride in drawing out their enemy's agony, torture and destruction till said enemy begged to be killed. It was what gave them their reputation.

* * *

Harry found out that his exploits of the day had made him even more famous and a living legend. It was not every day that the greasy bat of the dungeons was defeated. But it was Nightflame that had people getting scared of him again, something that irked him to no end. The Daily Prophet had made a hue and cry over it, and Amelia had had to release a statement that said that the form was registered. People then started treating him like he was the second coming and the greatest wizard since Merlin.

That was not to say that everything was bad. There were letters of thanks from several parents, Ministry Heads and Wizengamot members. They thanked him for killing the Dementors and saving their children. Several people had acknowledged Life Debts to him. However, Harry would have none of that. If he had done the 'proving Sirius innocent' bit earlier, the Dementors would have not been around. Amelia had offered to have the dementors removed but Harry had refused. He would not claim any debt. His well worded refusal appeared in every letter in reply. He implied that he was protecting his territory. He also subtly directed public anger towards Fudge. He had also set Rita upon Fudge. She was promised thrice the normal pay for the assignment. Rita was now a happy witch. The overall effect was that within four months of travelling through time, Harry was the darling of the Wizarding World all over again, and this time solely on the basis of what he had achieved on his own. This would prove to be in excellent stead if and when Voldemort would return. The Wizengamot was now squarely in his corner, so was much of the flock of Magical sheeple. It was unkind to think of them that way, but Harry wanted nothing more than to be normal, yet every action of his was thrusting him further and further into the spotlight.

On the personal front, Hermione had torn strips off him verbally. It was so scary that Fred had very innocently asked whether Hermione wanted Dragon-hide armour. She did thereafter, unfortunately, give him the near-silent-politely-civil treatment. That was irritatingly unbearable. Embarrassingly enough, a repeat of the sixth year in terms of female (and occasionally and scarily, male) attention started. On this backdrop, Harry wanted to make sure that there would be no way in which he would be found dead participating in the Triwizard Tournament. Ron was not happy about the attention he got and had been quite outspoken about it. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had turned up at Hogwarts the next day (Percy had written to them) and had taken him to task. Yet, it was George who had the last word.

"You know, Sprout would like you as a pet. Free dragon dung fertiliser," he quipped. Harry was the recipient of odd looks for several ensuing Herbology lectures.

Sirius had sent him a very scathing letter. He wasn't happy about Harry facing Snape on his own. Harry replied with a detailed letter describing the events from his point of view. The old mutt got a huge kick out of the fact that from Snivellus' point of view, it was James and Sirius who had killed him. He was still unhappy with Harry taking undue risks however.

Harry had started to feel a bit too thinly stretched. Even though his work was not suffering, he had started feeling as if he was using a time turner like Hermione once had in his memories. It was bloody scary.

On the school front, Dumbledore was still unresponsive to any treatment. Minerva had taken up the position of interim Headmistress. Moony was the interim Head of House. Professor Vector had taken up the reins of the Slytherin House. It seemed she was very much on the same wavelength as Harry in that she did not like the fact that Slytherin had been degraded to a Death Eater Base camp. She had had one-on-one meetings with every member of her House, had conducted a proper raid on every single person's properties, and had had two students in possession of dark objects expelled. It was pretty obvious that she meant business. Madam Bunting had taken up the role of the Potion Mistress. She had a fairly good acquaintance with Andi, who had explained to her that some students would be continuing under her tutelage. Madam Bunting was strict, but was a very good teacher – more akin to Minerva teaching Potions.

Aurors were now stationed around Hogwarts by Amelia to replace the eighty-odd dementors that had- well, died. The mail to all inside Hogwarts was checked thoroughly. It was a good thing too, for there were howlers, love potions, and several generally abhorrent things being sent to Harry as a result of the Death Eater Purge and the Dementor Burnings. Records of the arrest of Sirius were dug up and the kiss-on-sight order was rescinded. It was fast starting to be as good a time as any to start the proceedings to free Sirius.

* * *

The death of Severus and Draco had a very terrible repercussion. Hermione had started to draw away from Harry. Initially he had tried to ignore it, but it was really painful. Each of his action was to keep her as safe as possible, but she had started treating him like a pariah. Almost everyone in their circle was very much aware of the tensions simmering between the two.

Initially, Harry had attempted to talk to Hermione after she had torn into him for taking the risks. She had looked at him with an inscrutable expression and had not spoken much. Over the week she had started to withdraw more and more whenever Harry was around. He on his part then took to becoming a blank mask in her presence. They had reached an impasse.

On her part, Hermione's morals, logic, heart and brain were all warring over her best friend's actions. Logically, the blood feud against Snape had reached the proper conclusion. Once it had been called, the conclusion had been set in stone one way or the other. What the reprehensible man had done to Harry's family was beyond redemption. Harry had tried to kill him honourably in a well-fought duel and had nearly done so till the Dementors had come to call. She had to admit that if someone had done to destroy her family as much as Snape had single-handedly done to destroy Harry's, she would have probably certainly wanted revenge. But her moral side was distraught over the fact that neither of Harry or Professor Lupin was worried about having taken a life. Why did Harry have to be the one to declare the feud, though? Why couldn't it have been anyone else? Why did the hands tainted with Snape's blood have to be Harry's? Why had he become so unfeeling? Was the future really so bad that Harry could easily think of killing people and not lose sleep over it?

Then there was Draco Malfoy's death. It tore her more than Snape's did. Her brain told her that given what Harry had seen in the future was an obvious indication of things that would be. If she was to be honest with herself, she knew that the moment Riddle started recruiting Draco and his ilk would be the first to jump at the chance to receive the mark, and probably consider it to be a monumental achievement. If she was to be brutally honest with herself, she would also have to accept the fact that she would have topped the list of people who would have been sacrificed for his heinous and horrid pleasure, for his initiation into the DE ranks. She shuddered as she thought of what could've awaited her then. But her morals again bound her. What had he done yet? Hadn't Harry punished him for something that happened in the future? Logic replied by telling her what exactly Malfoy must have done to die. He must have somehow denigrated non-magical born people. But was it not too harsh?

Finally, Harry cornered her – or to be precise the two coincidentally cornered each other on the Astronomy tower. She flinched as soon as she saw him, making him grimace bitterly. He stared into her eyes intently, before asking, "Would you please tell me why you are shunning me?"

Hermione stuttered and stammered as she tried to vehemently deny that. "What-Why would I do that?"

"Please, Hermione. I know I am not at your level of intelligence, but please don't insult the modicum of intelligence that I do have. Please do not lie to me."

"Harry, really, it is not-"

"Miss Granger, I understand that I do not have the right to expect a true answer, but I sincerely request you to oblige me all the same."

Hermione cringed at that. Harry had taken to speaking in a very formal manner with people he did not like or while discussing topics that revolted him. But what troubled her, was the hurt tone and the disappointment shining through the veneer of formality. And it troubled her even more, knowing that she was at least partially the cause. She looked away, and Harry turned to the ledge-wall, leaning slightly across with his elbows on the flat face.

At long last Hermione spoke. "It is about Snape and Malfoy, Harry..." she started tentatively.

"Oh." His voice was flat and emotionless. "I take it that you have decided that I am a murderer?"

"No!" This time her vehemence was true. "I am just having problems with the fact that you don't seem to feel too bad about their deaths..."

"I feel terrible. I hate being a killer. You think I like it? Then understand I remember what those two were. I remember what Snape did. I remember what Draco will be. What do you expect me to do? Grieve? I won't. Those two were scum who needed to be dead. And you know what the Dark Mark was. You know what he was doing to Dumbledore. How dare you think that a person like that should have been kept alive?" he asked, his rage barely controlled. "Do you think I feel nothing? Already cast me as the monster, have you?" he asked with a sneer.

"No, Harry really, it is nothing like that. I can understand Snape, I really can. Even though you were honour-bound and duty-bound to eliminate him, you turned first into Draco Vindex (the name that the Prophet and The Magic of Facts had anointed him with)– the dragon protector. Snape's death was an afterthought for you, and for that I am happy. And also proud of the way you protected people from the dementors. No it is Malfoy's death that I am unhappy about. He may have committed crimes in that dystopian future you came from," she said with her hands raised in a placating gesture at his rapidly darkening face, "but he is – was – as of yet, innocent."

"Is it so? He did not want people to die, last year? What did you want me to do?" Here he put on a Malfoy-worthy sneer and imitated the dead boy's nasal drawl, "Wait for him to rape and murder a mudblood to receive his mark?" At Hermione's blanched face, he continued normally, lowering his voice to turn the screw in tighter, "Did you expect me to wait until he threatened you before I killed him in combat?"

Hermione could not answer for quite some time and Harry returned to savouring the scenery. Finally she countered, "But could he not have changed? Could he not be -"

"- brought back to the light?" Harry completed with a mirthless snort. He turned back to Hermione. "Do you honestly believe that he would have changed? Remember Hermione, he had to have racially abused someone. My terms were very, _very_ specific. I wanted Lucius Malfoy dead. He knew what would happen when he exposed the whole DE syndicate, and still sacrificed himself. He still did everything to save his son. I respect that. That his son was a self-serving, selfish, foolish bigot who couldn't control himself is not my fault. And as for mercy, tell that to Molly Weasley nee Prewett; tell that to Neville; tell that to what remains of the Fenwick, McKinnon families; tell that to the scores of mundane families that lost their sons and daughters because of the bloodlust of these people. Convince them, and then try to convince me."

"But he could have been given a chance!" Hermione retorted hotly.

This time, Harry's presence was intimidating. She felt the same sense of power she had felt when he had berated Ron. And she was terrified. "I have never had a second chance, or any forgiveness, before this, that is. Whatever bad that happened was always my fault, right from burning a steak I was cooking for my Uncle to being the son and godson of the unfortunate people who were killed because a psychotic megalomaniac believed the words spouted by a fraud – and told to him by the very bastard that I killed remorselessly. I never had a reprieve. When my memories were sent back in time, several of those that had died were still alive. That 'me' dug Dobby's grave. That version of me did not have Sirius' body to bury. That version of me could not kill Dolohov in battle. That meant I lost my last remaining link to my parents, and you too, because I allowed that shit to live. Now I have no sympathy for those who made their choices willingly. My coming back in time demanded a payment to Death – the one with a capital 'D'. I would rather dance on the bones of my enemies and stain my hands, wands and swords with their blood, than lose anyone. You will have to decide your priorities. I am warning you, though. Do not become Dumbledore. That _**philosophy**_ is as much my enemy as Voldemort is. I would hate to have to call **_you_** my enemy. Forgiveness to the undeserving is the eighth sin."

Then and there, Hermione knew that this was a battle she would not win. Harry was not unhinged, but he was certainly no longer innocent. He had snapped long ago. Harry continued, "Your safety means far more to me than adhering to fake morals. I will go one further. Your continued and unimpeded safety means more to me than your friendship does. I am not a soldier in the real sense. I still take out the enemy. If you have problems with that, I cannot force you to accept it. Talk to your parents. Perhaps they will prove to you that I am no Monster or murderer. Draco was no innocent. He made his choice Hermione. I had said then. The Life Debt was his chance to break away from his father's teachings, and he chose not to do so. It cost him his life. It was his chance to change. It was his chance to mend his ways, and he failed."

Hermione still angled for one last attempt at convincing him. "Does that mean you will kill people all the time?"

Harry looked at her for a moment and sighed. "Imagine a world, Hermione, where these shits ruled. They are happy rounding up newbloods like the SS rounded up Jews and sent them to die. Then one by one people are killed. Imagine you have no parents, then your last links to your parents die, then your friends are picked off one by one, raped, tortured, murdered, mutilated. Imagine being alone. Imagine there being no Luna, no Neville, Ron, or any of the other friends. Imagine seeing me being killed in front of you. Each one of us has been killed and you have been forced, either by circumstances or by people, to watch. Now there is nothing left to feel but hatred; no mercy, no doubt, no sympathy for a dying enemy, nothing – just hatred. Now all of a sudden you get a second chance to correct everything, to keep the people you lost alive, and the only payment required is the death of those that caused the losses. What would you do?"

What would she do, she asked herself. She would be lost, for sure, if there were none of **_her_** people left. She would be lost if she were left alone. And she realised that she would pretty much do anything to ensure that she never lost them again. She understood Harry at last. This was carefully and wilfully planned.

"And by the way, Ms. Granger, I sincerely wish you could stop behaving as if you know better in every situation. You don't. Not in this one anyway. Also, quit yelling at me or glaring. That way in which you sniff at me in a superior way, or wilfully ignore me irritates me. I consider you among my best friends, but your behaviour so often descends to Petunia Dursley's. I don't like it. While I use my Occlumency to not show my real reactions, it doesn't mean I will take things lying down. Your behaviour infuriates me. I can understand why you behave the way you do – you haven't lost your innocence, after all. But I have a limit too. It has always been painful, living with those things. I do not need any reminder of the same from you." He then left the tower, leaving behind a flabbergasted, teary-eyed and horrified Hermione in his wake.

* * *

Much of the fanfare died out by Halloween. People were still celebrating on the Sunday, but Remus, Harry and Sirius stood in the graveyard of Godric's Hollow. The youngest of the Marauders was worried how the two would react to being in each others' presence. When Sirius had apparated under glamour and bounded up to Harry as Padfoot, comically sliding to a halt as he saw Remus. Remus squatted on a knee, ready for the dog.

"Hello, Padfoot."

Padfoot sat on his haunches and cocked his head to a side as he peered at Remus. He then sniffed at him, and bounded about sniffing around. Harry realised what he was doing and transformed into Pup, following his lead. Finding no trace of any other person around, they turned to the graveyard, Remus following in their wake. The two Grimm stopped in front of a pair of graves that were arrayed with flowers.

JAMES POTTER LILY POTTER

BORN 27 MARCH 1960 BORN 30 JANUARY 1960

DIED 31 OCTOBER 1981 DIED 31 OCTOBER 1981

The last enemy that shall be destroyed is Death.

There were flowers of all sorts. Harry found solace in the fact that his parents were not forgotten by everyone else. The two let out a series of almost identical, long mournful howls. Remus too was crying. He had not visited James' and Lily's graves in five years. Everything had caught up with the werewolf, and he had no longer felt himself up to the task. He had mourned for what seemed like months every Halloween. Even the wolf had mourned for his pack. The wolf couldn't understand why his playmates weren't there anymore. Over time, the wolf had become more and more violent, and Remus had sunk deeper and deeper into depression.

For Sirius, it was the most difficult situation. He'd lost all semblance of family that night. It remained as such for Reggie was dead even before '81. He felt the self-loathing and anger, the fear, the revulsion he felt for Voldemort and Peter as he held James' and Lily's corpses, and tried his level best to pacify his godson. He had failed. Sirius Black had failed. It was his fault Prongs and Lils had died, and Harry was an orphan. It was also his fault that Harry had been beaten by those fat-lards of Lils' relatives. Padfoot went on howling, before he felt a slight nudge of a paw to his muzzle. It was pup. The two dogs transformed back, sitting side by side with Remus, grieving for their lost ones, after Remus had put up privacy and other spells.

At long last, Harry spoke. "Hermione and I came here on the Christmas eve of '97. It was about a month after Ron had left us. She conjured roses, a wreath of Christmas Roses." He conjured the same. It was not to the same finesse, but it was nice all the same. "That night I almost died again when Nagini, Moldyshorts' pet snake, bit me. I could have killed her that night and there would have been one less Horcrux to destroy. Hermione was the first person ever to come with me here; the first to hold my hand as I grieved truly for the first time ever for all that I had lost. She became my family. She saw me grieving as you are, Padfoot. I was blaming my existence for their deaths. She set me straight. I won't do that for you, Padfoot, because we are both just as broken. So is Moony. But we have people for us. We are family. Amelia is family. We need to heal together Padfoot."

"When did you get so wise, Cub?" asked Remus.

"What do you know, spending time with you and Hermione over several years has made me wise. It can't have been Padfoot's influence at all."

The two older wizards were in splits at that. They laughed for a while, and then those laughs turned to sobs. Poor Remus, tired by the transformation of the previous night was hit badly.

"I am sorry, Padfoot."

Sirius did not reply for a while. "I am sorry too, Moony. I just don't seem to run out of people to apologise to."

"What are you -?"

"Don't Moony. I have played the game of 'what if' for twelve years. And I am sure that you have done so too. What if I had trusted you instead of Wormtail? What if you had trusted me to not betray Prongs and Lils? I bloody hate those two words. They are worse than sorry, and you know how much I hate it."

"Yes." Moony gazed out into the distance. "Where do we stand now, Pads?"

Sirius seemed to contemplate upon that. "We were brothers once, Moony. We were brothers and we had promised Prongs to always look after this daft kid. Instead he is looking out for us. He somehow has taken me back, and is my son now. I think he wants his Unca Mooey back too."

"I do, Moony."

Not a word more was spoken. The three hugged each other in a huddle. They were pack. They were family. Broken they were, but would be so no more; for together they would be pack again.

* * *

While the three Marauders across two generations were at a private family meeting, Derrick Avery and Gregory Gibbon, two who had not yet been arrested, were having a meeting themselves. They knew that they were in trouble. The pair got together to plan an escape. Just as they met (very foolishly at the Leaky Cauldron- Tom summoned the Aurors), though, the private room they were in burst open. Kingsley Shacklebolt stood to arrest them, along with Auror Curtis Davis.

"Mr. Avery, Mr Gibbon, you are under arrest on the charges of being suspected Death Eaters..." Kingsley never got to complete as he had to duck an Avada Kedavra. Davis was not fortunate. Just as Kingsley rolled out, he was struck by another Killing Curse. Avery and Gibbon rushed down the steps to circumvent the anti-apparition wards. They casually killed Tom, causing several patrons to flee in terror. Not everyone was fortunate. As the two Death Eaters rushed out of the pub, they used their normal tactics, sealing the pub altogether, and setting it on Fiendfyre before apparating away. By the time the Aurors came to the scene, the Leaky Cauldron was gone, with the Dark Mark floating above it. Eyewitness accounts told them exactly who had done it. The war had begun a year-and-half early.

* * *

Hermione was in the library, alone again, after the debacle that was her confrontation with Harry. It was painful, to say the least. Knowing what she knew about Petunia Dursley, it was the worst insult Harry could have thrown at her. He had compared her with Petunia Dursley, a woman who had made him feel unloved all his life, who had made him feel unworthy. It ranked right up there with Malfoy calling her a 'mudblood'. At least Malfoy was just parroting what his father said. It was not the same with Harry. He knew exactly what he was saying, and to whom. It had pained her much more than anything that she had been called through her fourteen years.

"You are missing the obvious again, Hermione." Luna's singsong lilt jerked her out of her reverie.

"Luna?"

"Yes?"

"How did you know what I was thinking?"

"It is a rule of knowing me, Hermione. Don't ask how I know things. I do." She turned her gaze away from the book she was reading and looked at Hermione with a stony expression that betrayed her lack of warmth towards Hermione; that didn't perform any wonders for the bushy-haired witch's wandering thoughts. "You know, Hermione Granger, I really used to think that you were a clever girl. Perhaps you aren't so, at least not as much as I thought."

Hermione frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You tell me? For two years you have seen how the rules have not protected you. For two years you have seen that the morals that are admirable in peace have no place in this society; people are still at war. The rules, morals; they don't protect you. Subverting them will. Harry is trying to do that, to the best of his ability."

"But killing?"

"Have you lost anyone, Hermione?"

"No," Hermione replied, biting her lip.

"I have. I lost my mummy when I was nine." Though her manner was serene, there was a definite hitch to her voice. The pain was still there. "If I could go back to that day, I would give away all my years just to prevent that. But I can't."

"But..."

"No. Hermione Granger, you love the rules because they protected you for so long. What you have to realise is that it is Harry now who is protecting you. And by rejecting that, you are hurting him."

"It is against everything I have believed in, so far," Hermione protested.

"Do you know that Moulting Brancles which are creatures of fire, take on even Kelpies in water, if the Kelpies try to attack their nests and colonies?"

Hermione was thrown off tangent by this. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"That is what my brother is, Hermione. He is taking on those supremacists on their own turf, and is using their own laws. They made the laws. Harry is only using them."

"This is actually common?" Hermione was aghast at that. Luna was laying siege to her carefully constructed rosy view of this new world which was her escape from her bullied childhood.

"There were once at least four hundred magical families, Hermione. Today there are only hundred and sixty left. What do you think?"

Sixty percent. The archaic laws had wiped out sixty percent of the magical world. They were a widely used self-destruct button for the trigger-happy magicals.

"Is it so bad really? Am I so bad that Harry can compare me to his aunt?"

"I don't know about that, but what I do know is that he wants - no - needs your acceptance. He needs your approval of him as a person. He needs to make you feel proud. And if in spite of trying to protect you with all possible means, he only finds rejection and contempt, even if it is not open, he is bound to feel hurt." Luna's grey eyes became stormy. "And I would hate you if you hurt him."

Luna, Hermione realised, was the only person who understood people well. And she resolved to resolve the situation with Harry, there and then.


	36. Chapter 36

**Justice and Truth – and Surprises**

* * *

Extremely disgusting situations! You have been warned!

* * *

"Sirius Orion Black, get your furry arse here right this moment!" Amelia was getting more and more harried with each passing moment. It was the 10th of November, the day of Sirius' trial – and by extension Pettigrew's too. Sirius, holed up in Marauders' Place, would not move at all from the house. Amelia could understand his reticence. He had not got a trial at all, so he was naturally afraid of facing the Wizengamot. It was where they were going to make an even more powerful statement as Sirius would ready for the March Equinox to take Oath as Lord Black, and Harry's legal guardian in the mug- mundane world also.

Things were not going well at all for Amelia, barring Sirius, of course. The destruction of The Leaky Cauldron, the Dark Mark and the Auror murders had made the general magical public beyond jittery. It was an immediate antithesis of the time in the O.T. when people refused to believe that Voldemort was back. People were already panicking, but Sirius' suggestion of a running list of Death Eaters caught and executed daily in the media made people have hopes that something was being done. There was fear, but it was tempered by caution, something Mad-Eye would appreciate.

Even in that situation, Harry and Sirius had found ways to curry favour from several newblood families. They were all sent contracts to accept deposits of 15% less than their houses' cost and they would have their homes ward-layered to the best non-wartime schemes. The idea was that they would all be living in houses owned by purebloods, and therefore would be allowed to have wards. The Gringotts representatives personally visited these houses and with a memory hold which carried a memory of Harry telling them about the law, and how the contract would work. By paying the deposit and for the ward scheme, the house would by records be the house of the family which signed the contract, allowing setting up of wards. The deposit would then be returned and the families would only have to pay up the remaining part which went for wards to the purchaser without interest or with nominal interest. Upon full payment, the House and wards would be reverted to the name of the original owner. The memory ended with telling the parents that magic came through to descendents of squibs, so they were technically just as magic as anyone else. The heredity tests would be included in the unpaid 15%.

As it turned out, two Gryffindors – Sally-Anne Perks and Katie Bell, turned out to be Potter cousins. They were quickly inducted into the House of Potter, and now proudly wore the House crest and the names Sally-Anne Perks-Potter and Katie Bell-Potter (Sally did anyway; Katie was not happy to be Harry's cousin or any relation whatsoever. It didn't fit her plans). Amelia had had a hearty laugh with Ragnok and Sirius over the whole idea. The ward-schemes were being done at a discounted price (bulk orders worked in magical businesses too, but the newblood families did not need to know that, nor did they need to know that the entire business only cost the Houses 10 of the 15%. It was just... good business) gaining much needed respect for The Nation. Also, the Bones-Longbottom-Potter alliance gained lot of backing from the magical community. It worked to have Lord Slytherin on their side.

The trial was, for all intents and purposes, going to be a mere formality. Pettigrew had an interesting compulsion to turn up at Hogwarts in a carefully managed coup three days before. His memories had been carefully modified by Garnarukran magic which the Wizengamot did not recognise. It was essentially his trial which would be held first. His capture had been declared in the Daily Prophet the previous day, to bring up the ruse that Sirius was not known to either Harry or Amelia. He had somehow been found (of course using the Marauders' Map) and turned over to Remus. The werewolf was doing his utmost to avoid hexing the rat, and had called Amelia over and the map was turned over to the Headmistress.

Amelia also stripped Peter of all personal effects. They were sure that Voldemort would have tried to make a Horcrux on the Halloween night of 1981. She found Peter's wand, Voldemort's yew wand, an ancient wand that had a wood-carved feather handle and four extra wands. Under questioning, Wormtail revealed that he had a small disc (which Gringotts recognised as Gryffindor's expandable shield from the picture drawn as per the description), and a shrunken staff which resembled an upright snake (obviously another of Salazar's effects; the picture made Harry wonder if Salazar was the sort of person who in the modern era would have chosen to be Goth, or a metal-head or something like that. The ophidian obsession went a bit too far) as well. Circumventing procedure, she gave everything apart from Peter's wand and the four extras to Harry. None of them knew which of those things was to be made a Horcrux. Sirius had instructed Dobby to buy several crystal cases lined with Acromantula silk. All the effects went into those cases and were kept in a special room Sirius had had constructed that was inaccessible to anyone but him and Harry.

Moony had decided he would carry out a Marauders' favour, and completely obliterated any sign of the four new Marauders and their primary group of friends. He had also disabled several features. The map no longer could be used to track individuals. It also, thankfully, no longer had the rude answering feature. Minerva had realised all of this, but she let it be as it was. Every student deserved a little mischief, and Minerva had grown to love the Mischief-Makers who almost always originated from her house. She had suffered pranks from Charlus, then James and recently Harry. It was typical of things. Potters were pranksters. It was something that she had told Amelia. It wasn't that things were hunky-dory for the interim Headmistress either. The upheaval that several students from Slytherin and Ravenclaw and even a few Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors underwent due to a massive crackdown by the DMLE, led to the lessons having to be suspended for a week after the attack. The Quidditch season was also postponed till after the Christmas break, with two matches to be conducted every other weekend.

Amelia had to meet Harry at exactly quarter past nine, when a disillusioned, transformed Padfoot would be waiting by the Wizengamot doors, ready to announce himself after being 'shocked' by the news. Harry hoped that Sirius was a better actor than he let on, primarily, because they were going to shock the Wizengamot out of their wits with the interaction between them. It would not do for him to let his surprise slip till Harry greeted him as Lord Black.

Amelia sincerely wished that Sirius would hurry. She wanted him free, and she wanted him free fast. It had been something she had missed – Sirius' seriously carefree presence (though it was lately missing ever since Harry's duel against Snape). The man could make light of any situation, and that was enough to keep people around him happy. It was one of those things that she found endearing – though his natural charm was undeniable.

Amelia shook her head. Her thoughts were all over the place. She needed to keep her head straight, but Sirius' childish behaviour after his 'special care' the night before was driving her slightly off her rocker. It was the sort that she was sure would have Susan and Harry running for the hills if they knew.

* * *

Pettigrew was brought in roughly by the Aurors at the stroke of 10. He looked terrible – he looked more like shit than the treacherous shit he was. He was extremely groggy, and only barely seemed to know where he was. A large granite shield was erected all around him, along with several other protections which would not cause material harm to the granite shields themselves. Then transparency charms were cast on the granite, along with communication and compulsion spells to ensure that he spoke the truth.

Elizabeth and Thaddeus were once again prosecuting the case. Well, 'prosecuting' was not the correct verb for Thaddeus. He was assisting Public Prosecutrix Elizabeth Crompton. It was more a public interrogation than a prosecution, and Peter was, of course, to be made an example of.

It was very difficult for Harry to digest what was being spoken. Snape and Pettigrew were two dastardly bastards. The former lusted after Lily Evans and so had the latter, and Snape just as equivocally hated the Marauders. It had been a game of blackmail between the two. Both threatened the other that they would reveal their disgusting infatuation for Lily ('lowly mudblood should have felt honoured to service upstanding members of pureblood families') to their respective friends. Peter had let slip about Moony, giving Snape more blackmail material. That had resulted in Peter being recruited. It just kept escalating from there. Eventually Peter had become so infatuated with the DEs, that he no longer needed Snape blackmailing him into anything anymore. This was particularly driven by the marriage of the Potters. Both were driven by their jealousy. Harry wondered whether Ron was not the same. He had a natural inclination towards being jealous, after all.

Peter's story made everyone around turn green. Under the veritaserum, he just went on listing his crimes in gruesome detail. And it was obvious that he felt no remorse whatsoever. Even without his betrayal, it was enough to put the living waste of biological matter and a poor excuse for a human being, a psychopath matching Voldemort's own insanity, out of the misery that his existence heaped on himself and others. Betrayal was not something Peter was new to. He had teamed up with Fenrir Greyback and routinely roamed with the monster's pack as a rat. That was the height of betrayal – helping the one who turned Moony. The packs would snag whole families, or would just feast on muggles. There would be a few that they would turn. It was just plain dirty. Peter Pettigrew was not just a traitor but also a bully, murderous, vile man. He was never sane, probably. It was the last crime however that had the Wizengamot by storm. And this was a storm even larger than the storm that his being alive had raised.

"Then that bastard James Potter sullied his bloodline by marrying that mudblood whore. He could have left her for me, but he 'loved' her! My Master had told me, there is no such thing as 'love'. James got her. He had everything, money, looks, power and girls flocked to him. But he took the one bitch I wanted all along. He took the mudblood Evans.

"I would not let that go, could I? Master had told me. There is only power. I was too weak to go against James Potter. I was too weak against him, Sirius Black and Remus Lupin. They were my **_friends_** ," he said, fairly spitting out the word in disgust. "I wanted to be noticed. But I was stupid little Peter. The butt of jokes; the lookout; the one who would tag those we wanted to prank. I slipped under the radar.

"And then, then there was the time when the Longbottoms and the Potters – two old families that my master so desperately wanted, coveted – needed to go undercover. I was of course never told why. James made Black the secret-keeper first. And then those fools decided that they would prank my Lord." He went into a long, insane cackle of laughter. "They changed secret-keepers. I had sowed all sorts of distrust against Lupin (Peter, too, found that he could not talk about Moony; nor could he talk about Padfoot for that matter). So it was little Peter, who nobody cared for except Fenrir and my Lord, that became the Secret-Keeper."

"WHAT?" The noise in the Hall dropped as unanimously as the question itself.

"The Potter fool made me the Secret-Keeper, because Sirius, who was the little Potter brat's godfather, would have been the obvious choice. They replaced him without anyone knowing about it." He laughed again. "The stupid Potter and his whore did not even take a magical oath from me to make sure that I would not betray them. I was their 'friend' after all. Why would they suspect little old Wormtail betraying them? Severus knew I was a Death Eater. We both wanted Potter and Black dead anyway. So I agreed. And then Caradoc Dearborn became the Longbottoms' Secret-Keeper. My Lord wanted all three dead. I killed Caradoc with a simple spell. Then the packs and I ate him. He was tasty. I nibbled on his bones too. Toasty and like chicken; I never thought Caradoc would taste like that. I even ate his raw flesh as a rat. I could almost feel as if I had eaten his power too."

Everywhere around people wanted to retch. Lord Dearborn was crying silently for his son. There were several like the Prewett twins and Benjy Fenwick, who had been killed and dismembered or eviscerated. But nobody else they knew actually was eaten. Augusta, who was sat that day between Harry and Reginald, was keeping a firm grip on each of their shoulders.

"What happened to Sirius Black?"

"That fool wanted to keep his 'family' as he called the Potters safe at all costs. It surprised me. I did not expect him to come after me. He was an Auror after all. I thought he would keep his calm and stay for the brat first, before telling the authorities about me and embarking on a man- or rat-hunt. He made my job easier. I wanted to kill him, but then I decided that killing his reputation would be tastier. I killed twelve muggles behind me, shouted out for all to hear that he was the traitor and then transformed and ran away. Bagnold and Crouch did not like him anyway. You people locked him away," he said the last part in a singsong voice.

Amelia had one last question. "When and why did you come to Hogwarts?"

"I was living in the Forbidden forest among the other rats. When the Potter brat came, I wanted to be the one to kill him. He caused my Master to disappear. I would kill him and be my Master's best servant once more! But then Black escaped. I do not know why he did so now, or how he did it. But he would be coming to protect Potter. I had to kill him before Black caught up with either of us. I was hoping that I could find them together. Black would first try to protect his godson. Two birds with one stone." He laughed insanely again.

The story was something that Harry had himself concocted to protect the Weasleys. So it did not surprise him. But the rest of the story gave him shivers. Hell, it would have given Mad-Eye shivers and goose pimples. Harry had had enough. It was terrible. He wanted blood. Or in this case, he wanted Peter's soul. When the call for the 'Dementor's Kiss' was made, he ensured that it would be administered immediately. When the call for the Dementors was made, a black dog scampered in. Harry froze, he almost forgot about Sirius.

"Padfoot!" he yelled. "What are you doing here?" He started the pre-decided little drama.

"Lord Potter," started Amelia after telling her Aurors to stand down and not kill the dog (she had told Mad-Eye of all this, and he and Gawain Robards were the Aurors in court that day). "Why did you bring this animal to court? You clearly know him."

"My apologies, Director Bones, but I did not bring Padfoot to court. He was at home, and is my pet. He was a stray that I adopted. I do not know how he could even come here. He was being cared for by my elf in my absence."

Harry went down to the dog and was about to 'herd him out' when Sirius transformed. "PETER!" he roared. "I HAVE COME TO KILL YOU NOW! YOU WILL DIE! YOU KILLED MY FAMILY! I WILL KILL YOU!" It was then that Mad-Eye stunned Sirius. A minute later, Sirius was sitting in a similar setting as Peter. This time the shields were for his protection only.

"WHY AM I CHAINED? I WILL KILL THIS SHIT! HE KILLED JAMES AND LILY! I WILL KILL HIM!" Harry thought that Sirius was laying it all a bit too thick.

Sirius was silenced and petrified by Amelia with a glare (one that all three knew was playful). He was checked for any compulsions and the Dark Mark and was declared as a person who wasn't a marked Death Eater.

Elizabeth Crompton was once again cast into the role of the interrogator. Apart from the story regarding his escape (which was as close as possible to what actually happened before), everything Sirius said was true – if a little implied. He had had his memories modified temporarily to combat any effects of Veritaserum.

Ideally there would have been a trial, but since there had never been one, and there was proof of Sirius' innocence in Peter's presence itself, the interrogation would have to double up as one. Sirius, ever the showman, gave an impassioned defence of himself after the effect of Veritaserum died.

"All I cared about was getting my son away from the rat. I did not know where he was, but I knew my little Harry (Sirius went about with pink hair and clothes for that over the duration of a month for that; the poor blighter never knew, for everything seemed normal to him. Additionally, people couldn't tell him about it till the effect was gone, and that was enough to give him a reputation) was going to be in trouble. And I would not let Peter do that. I was determined to kill him even if I was put back in Azkaban or Kissed, if it meant my son being safe," he remarked in summation. There were quite a few bright-eyed people at that proclamation.

As it turned out, the whole 'get the DEs out of the Wizengamot' exercise proved perfect. Sirius was exonerated in a near unanimous manner.

It was cathartic for so many people – not least Harry, Sirius, Amelia, Augusta and Reginald – to see Peter kissed. As soon as Sirius was freed from the shackles, Harry bounded over to him, showing his 'son' side. Making sure that the Court Photographer was capturing the moment, with Sirius' Lord's Ring of the House of Black displayed prominently, he hugged Sirius and loudly proclaimed, "I am happy for you, my Lord Black – thank you for your actions... father?" he ended in a question.

That silenced the courtroom again, before the claps started. They realised how The Black Lord had masterfully played them. And while they did not know for sure, his custodian Heir – also the Lord Slytherin – had probably played his part to perfection. What were the chances of Pettigrew being found after all these years after all? And what were the chances that Black would know about the trial? Arcturus Black had been one cunning son of the devil. He had not anointed his grandson as his Heir, bypassing Orion, his son, for nothing. He must have had the foresight for several things, including his Heir's Heir too, after all. The photograph was an important point to note. It was obvious that this would all be printed in the Prophet, The Magic of Facts and other publications along with the pictures, in the current scenario regarding Voldemort and the DEs it would only be a snowflake in hell that would not believe Sirius' innocence. Several people had realised that perhaps the young Lord Black and Lord Slytherin were indeed worthy of those names.

* * *

Sirius' case against the Ministry, a civil suit would start the following week in a civil hearing. Wizengamot sessions with a quorum were enough for that. Sirius had the list of charges, and had added a few of his own. It was an excellent opportunity to wring a lot out of the Ministry, and manipulate the fools in one go.

* * *

Once they were firmly ensconced in Amelia's private parlour in her office, waiting for the news about Sirius and Peter, Harry restored Sirius' memories, before proceeding to tear into his Godfather.

"You sodding fool!" he shouted in dulcet tones. "I had told you to act as if you were slightly demented, Sirius! What business did you have giving speeches, damn it!"

Sirius cowered at that a bit. Amelia shook her head. "Harry, calm down, now," she said, the final word spoken with quiet authority. "Why do you have a problem with that?"

"Amelia, Sirius was not speaking like a person who was locked up for twelve years! It was obvious that he had some help. There will be investigations! Nobody will bother about me, as I am unofficially the Golden Boy by design, but people could point fingers at you! You are his betrothed, Amelia! We need you firmly entrenched here!"

"That is the point is it not?" Sirius countered. "I have let people assume that I did it through Gringotts. I just ran away with what you said when you claimed Heir-ship Pup! Goblins are neutral territory!"

"They are not, when I am in the picture, Padfoot! Nobody will assume otherwise! No Garnarukro is in the habit of giving birthday or Christmas gifts!"

"But do not you see? Even with any inferences they draw, people will see all this as a calculated plan that nobody can oppose! People will recognise your power!"

"STOP IT, BOTH OF YOU!" scolded Amelia. Sirius and Harry backed down a bit. "You are both right, and you are both wrong. For one, Sirius, you did go a bit overboard. Admit it. You were revelling in pulling a prank on them and them not being able to do anything about that, were you not?" Sirius nodded sheepishly. "And you don't have to worry about me, Harry. Sirius, or rather you, chose the week of Fudge's visit. I am seen as a threat to him. We can always blame..." She could see the disappointment that painted Harry's face. She hurried on. "Look, the fact remains that whichever way Sirius got free, it is of no importance whatsoever. People will now have to maintain the protocol of behaviour with a peer. For all that it matters he could say he checked out of a poor hotel and leave it at that. Don't bother your pretty head over that."

"Pretty head, am I?" Harry asked with a mock-growl. "But you are right Amelia. I am just worried. Things... they are changing and they have changed. As you said, you are a threat to Fudge. His toady may be gone now, but he has now become a wounded animal, backed into a corner. He is dangerous. I am worried for you, right now."

"True," agreed Sirius. Then he smiled evilly. "Amelia is not the only threat to Fudge, is she, Harry?"

"Huh?"

"Honestly, Pup! Who else is a threat to Fudge, apart from Amelia? That is the person we can incriminate. And amazingly enough, this person did his dirty trick while he was in power."

"Crouch!" Amelia and Harry said in unison. "We have to get Neville's revenge up and running soon! But he can't get out of Hogwarts till Christmas, Sirius."

"We need time, Pup."

"Does Amelia have it?"

"Push for time, will you, Amy? I will take up my seat on a special session. The winter solstice doesn't work for me. The Spring Equinox is too far off. Once I take my seat, I will reclaim the Malfoy seats, establishing the House anew as Fairheart. It will have to be exempted from forfeiture by you, Pup."

"Wait just a mo', Sirius. Take the Oath on the Winter Solstice Day. Be a Marauder. Break the Tradition." Sirius grinned mischievously, acquiescing.

"So you want one more woman, Sirius?" Amelia asked dangerously, her mind occupied elsewhere.

"It is not joking matter, Amy. Look at it this way. Pup releases the House to me, and I can use the time to find a newblood adequately descended through both the Malfoy and Black Squib lines to inherit it. One new House, and the traditionalists can't do squat about it."

Amelia thought about it. "That is actually a great idea!" she agreed.

"Thank you," Sirius preened. "Anyway, we need to find proof regarding Marlene's death and/or a new Lady Black anyway, Amelia. So I will have the 'another woman'."

"And you are going to sleep on the couch at Marauders' Place."

"NO!"

"Oh yes you are!"

Harry left them to it as he closed his eyes tiredly. It was nice to see the two squabbling over such inane things. Well, inane compared to false charges and resulting incarcerations, dark lords who would not stay dead, said dark lord's amazingly idiotic bunch of sycophants and the like. It was even better to realise that Sirius could do the squabbling with his betrothed girlfriend as a free man.

"Is Sirius why you have got grey hair early, Amelia?" he asked out of the blue.

The two lovers stopped their childish spat ("Am not!" Sirius protested to which Amelia replied, "Are too!" with equal fervour) to look at the kid lounging on a chair opposite the loveseat they were occupying.

"I do not have grey hair!" protested Amelia, scandalised, just as Sirius said, "I don't cause grey hair!"

"You do!"

"I don't!"

Amelia and Sirius simply jumped from one childish bickering spat to another.

* * *

That night – after an intense, private and rather messy 'celebration' – the two lay in bed. They pondered over all the sudden changes that had occurred in barely six months. For Sirius, he was now free of Azkaban, Peter was dead, he was back with Amy, but most importantly, he had his Pup back. It did not really matter that all the events occurred in the reverse order. He knew that he would have to lie low for some time, giving people time to recalibrate to the changed scenario. But now he would not be looked at or thought of as a traitor or a DE.

Now he was interested in ensuring that whatever happened in the other timeline for the Pup, would not happen again. True, several DEs were dead; they knew where five of the bits and pieces were; Harry was the Golden Boy and the one to be appeased by design. But every purge had to be followed up by a reconstruction, a repopulation of sorts. That was not something he would have his Pup face. He would let his Pup be a teenager at least, for he would never be a kid again.

Amelia too, had had severe upheavals in her career. It was unbelievable. She had never thought that one seemingly idyllic year would have Sirius being free, several Death Eaters dead, the Ministry in disarray, evidence of Voldemort's resurgence – and Sirius being free. She knew that every bit of chaos had been started by one person who was determined to bulldoze through their society with the same nonchalance that Voldemort possessed as he fired off killing curses. It had caught her by shock and surprise too.

"Sirius?" she called.

"Hmm?" answered Sirius.

"Where did that kid that we'd both held as a babe go? I remember him helping you grow that ridiculous moustache you used to have with his sprinkler system, and then he disappears for ten years and then after another two he forces his way right into the Wizengamot. What is going on?" Sirius froze. He had expected this question, but he hadn't expected it so soon. Unfortunately, Amelia caught him. "You know something." It was a statement, not a question.

"I do."

"You don't want to tell me."

"No! I mean yes! Oh Merlin!" he bumbled.

Amelia got off the bed. "What is it that you are hiding, Sirius? What is it about Harry that you know?"

Sirius clutched at his hair for a moment. "I know, and I can tell you Amelia. Please hold on till Christmas please. Pup and I will need to ease you into it. It is big. It is supernaturally big. Just don't ask me again till then."

"Harry is forbidding you from telling me?" she asked.

"No. If at all, I'm sure you will be the one person Harry simply must want to tell. No. It is more about the fact that Harry may have to give magical oaths to convince you that is holding me back."

Amelia eyed him speculatively. "You talk as if he has come back in time from some dystopian future," she said in jest. Unfortunately, she was right on the money. Sirius paled as if he had had all the blood sucked out of him. "You aren't serious, right? You are joking?"

"I am Sirius, and I am serious and no I'm not joking. Please leave it aside for the time being Amy. It is big. Just let us say that it is a second chance and we shouldn't look the gift Abraxan in the mouth. Please," he pled, his voice taking on a very piteous tone.

Amelia nodded. Sirius was a prankster at the best of times. She was unsure whether this was one of them. "Let us just say that what you say is true. What proof do you have?"

"Amelia, please. Don't do this. All I am asking you is to hold your patience for a month and half. Please trust me this once Amy. We have already used the knowledge he had. Nothing bad has happened yet, apart from Kingsley's death and the Leaky Cauldron being destroyed. I know for a fact that things were worse than the worst you could imagine. Just- just keep this secret for the moment. We will tell you everything that you need to know. Just think of this as a trailer. I am not dead. You are not dead. Susan is alive too. Things were terrible."

Sirius' whole demeanour had changed. Amelia could see that frisson of fear when Sirius alluded to the future as he claimed. She decided to give him the benefit of doubt for the moment. "Are you convinced of what Harry claims?"

"He gave me a magical oath and irrefutable proof. And I have no reason to distrust him whatsoever. I trust him completely. I am absolutely convinced."

"Alright," she said, sighing in concession. "You will have to prove everything to me though."

"You lot have The Triwizard Tournament in the offing, don't you?" Sirius asked. "You have Beuxbatons and Durmstrang joining up with Hogwarts hosting?"

"How do you know?"

"Voldemort was resurrected at the end of it for Harry."

"WHAT?"

"Yes. I will not tell you everything. That is a story Harry has to tell. I have sworn to support him come what may. Please trust us."

"Was it bad?"

"Doesn't the fact that I, a wizard, am calling something supernatural and the fact that somehow such a big leap in the time stream was performed, and was necessary answer your question? I told you Voldemort was resurrected. How can anything remain good?" Sirius countered irritably.

"Yes. It is just... I can't imagine it at all." Amelia sighed as she snuggled closer into Sirius.

"It is just as well that you can't. I swear I wanted to wrap the Pup in cotton-wool and go away to the Black island on the equator forever. But he knows and accepts the fact that we can't do that, just as I do. We are now in a position of control in just six months. That will go a long way towards never having all of those things happening."

"Hmm," agreed Amelia distractedly. There had been lots of funny things going around, but now she had some sort of explanation.

* * *

Hogwarts woke up to several deafening fireworks being burst in the Great Hall at breakfast. Punk-Graffiti like "Padfoot Rulzzzz", "The Doggy's got style," being splotched on the walls by the wet fireworks, and a completely age-inappropriate, lewd rendition of every song Moony ever knew about dogs by the candles in the hall, were the order of the day. Minerva was doing her best to stop that magic along with Filius, but it was charmed to be impervious to the magic of anyone but Hermione, and she did not know.

The media prints were delivered shortly after, and they showed the picture and the report that went along with it told everyone just how Sirius had remained sane after escape. The picture with the public acknowledgement of the adoption, along with Sirius alluding to his friendship with Moony, Prongs and Pettigrew as well as the Longbottom couple, meant that there was a calculating curiosity regarding the people involved.

The Prophet showed its usual flair for dramatics without substance. The news was just a poor, jumbled conglomeration of facts thrown in haphazardly. Though, to be objectively blunt, it was the Prophet that had skewed public opinion against Sirius back in 1981, and also after his escape. As usual, the about turn included none-too-subtle mentions of the paper having got _something_ right.

 **Twelve year old case finally closed!**

 **Peter Pettigrew found out to be Potters' Traitor!**

 **Sirius Black Innocent!**

 _ **In a dramatic turn of events, the Wizengamot Session of the 10th of November resolved a twelve year long case. A few days ago this paper had been the first to report that Peter Pettigrew, who had allegedly been killed by Sirius Black, had been found at Hogwarts.**_

 _ **At a public interrogation and trial at the Wizengamot Session, Peter Pettigrew was found to have the Dark Mark. Death Eater Pettigrew further gave a complete litany of his crimes, chief among them being the murders and cannibalisation of several muggles and muggle-born. He also confessed to have betrayed the Potters to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.**_

 _ **Pettigrew had shown up at Hogwarts to complete his master's job, after Lord-elect Black's escape from Azkaban. It is now widely known that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is not dead but only banished. One can only imagine what would have happened if Pettigrew had succeeded.**_

 _ **Pettigrew was immediately kissed after the trial, and Sirius Black was also exonerated – he had turned up to the trial in his animagus form. He was given the trial that he had been denied twelve years ago! Mr. Black had been adopted in the form of a lovable stray by the young Lord Potter, which suited Mr. Black's need to protect his godson and adopted son. It may be noted by readers that as the ritually sworn godfather and then father of Hadrian 'Harry' Potter, Sirius Black was incapable of betraying the Potters.**_

 _ **In an endearing twist, Lord Potter, who had taken his Heirs' Ring for the House of Black, now has found family again. He acknowledged as much at the end of the meeting.**_

 _For a detailed report refer Pg 2; Pg 7_

 _Sirius Black – Auror extraordinaire Pg 4_

 _The Godparent ritual – Pg 5_

 _Why was no trial accorded to Sirius Black? – Pg 6_

 _Sirius Black: The man behind the innocent inmate and determined parent – Pg 7 and 8_

"Harry?" called Hermione.

"Hmm?" responded Harry, not looking up from his newspaper.

"Why is my distant cousin staring at you?"

"Why are you staring at me Neville?"

Neville gave an exaggerated sigh. "You are looking so pretty today. I am sorry. You are looking beautiful, positively glowing!" Neville fake gushed.

Harry looked up at his friend at that with an open mouth. Hermione, Sally-Anne and Katie (who were all sitting together and closest to the two in the very large group of Gryffindors that had turned from more than just house-mates and acquaintances to friends) gave suitably violent reactions. Katie clamped her mouth shut with both hands as she fought giggles. Sally was not restraining herself, and instead was banging her fist on the table as she laughed. Hermione was the worst off though. She sprayed Harry with pumpkin juice. It was a fairly comical sight. It was slightly disturbing, but nothing compared to the image Luna produced when she said, "I don't think he will look as beautiful though in a white dress." That had Harry banging his head on the table while the others nearly collapsed off their seats.

"You do know that you are sometimes very disgusting, don't you?" he asked his godbrother and godsister.

"Yes!" they replied in smug unison.

Once the laughter had died down, Hermione said mirthfully, "You two are complete prats!" Then turning serious, she said, "No; my Greengrass cousin. Daphne has been staring across from the Slytherin table for quite some time."

Harry stared at her dumbfounded and blinked. "Neville, I need your help here mate. I thanked Mr. Greengrass yesterday, and made sure that he was properly mentioned, and basically did everything Gran told me was required of me. Am I missing something?"

"Eh? No. If you did everything that Gran said you should, then it is improbable that have done anything wrong. Best you can do is acknowledging her. It will mean that she will be called out, or she will speak what she wants to say. If you acknowledge her, you lose the element of surprise you might have if she doesn't know that you know."

Harry turned the advice in his head twice or thrice before he could make any sense of it. Then he shrugged and turned in his seat to face the Slytherin table. He caught Daphne's eye and gave her the trademark 'Potter grin' and a jaunty wave. If he was going to acknowledge her, then he would just as well prove himself to be James Potter's son and Sirius' godson. He then turned to the others and with a wide, smug grin said, "She must be crushing on me! I am a handsome marauder, am I not?"

"No. You're a big prat," muttered a seething Hermione.

Daphne had been observing Potter for quite some time. Her Uncle, the Lord Greengrass and her father, had both written to her and Story about the shenanigans of Potter in the Wizengamot. Her father especially had told her a lot about the way the DE faction had been decimated. She knew that Malfoy wanted her betrothed to his son, and now the entire line was dead. It had been a right relief. And it was particularly true in the light of the recent behaviour of the git. He had started making unwelcome advances towards her.

The sudden changes in Potter, especially the way he made people bow to him made her notice him for the first time. True, like all magically raised children, she had known the legend. She had been totally disappointed when he had not turned out to be anything like the stories. He had been sorted into Gryffindor, and she in Slytherin, and therefore, any contact between the two was going to be rare. Then along came The Slytherin Weasley and the Gryffindor Malfoy (as she thought of Malfoy and Weasley respectively), and they drove a complete wedge between the two houses, ending any chance of interaction and relegating her to an observer's position as she surveyed the Gryffindor Golden Boy.

He was physically underwhelming and seemingly stupid, letting the Weasley boy decide most things and letting the Granger girl – Hermione – do the brain-work and hard-work. He was always dressed in rags, had no confidence, slouched as if under an unbearable burden, and had a little fear whenever faced with the idea of interacting with people outside his comfort group.

The first sign of change was at the end of the previous school year when he had claimed a life-debt off everyone, and put down Dumbledore too. The changes thereafter were radical. Her father and uncle had told her all that they now knew. Four Houses, three of them legendary were under his Lordship. And she now knew how he was an heir to a fifth. Like a true Slytherin, she (wrongly) surmised, he had hidden away in plain sight before making his moves. The loud redhead was an excellent foil while Potter worked away towards actually planning for power. The fights with Draco had been exactly what had been expected of a foolish Gryffindor – so that was what everyone had seen. All that had been accomplished did not happen just off the hook. It took careful planning. And their world had been turned on its head. The way several concessions had been wrangled from the lawmaking body, she decided that this had been long in the offing.

The summer had been very beneficial to him indeed. He was no longer a scrawny little thing, but instead was among the tallest of their year group. He walked with a grace that she knew few pureblood heirs would ever have. He had the air that said he had the power and that he owned the ground he walked on. The look in his eyes was no longer fear. It was now determination, mischief, ambition, mischief, protectiveness, an understated wisdom, mischief cleverness, and more mischief. And, she had to admit to herself, his eyes were enamouring and dreamy. The sudden changes in the company he kept and the changes in the behaviour and demeanour of said company did not go under the radar. The open attempts to make friendships instead of alliances intrigued her.

But the real turn on moment when her curiosity in the subject of her interest investigation peaked was the duel against Snape. It had long been known that the man was heinous, crooked, untrustworthy, cruel and morally demented person. To have confirmation that he was a Death Eater and therefore surely a rapist and a murderer was an unwanted rotten, mouldy cherry on a cake of dragon dung. The duel itself had been engrossing, interesting and dare she say it, slightly frightening, given the way both duellers were shooting to kill. It had been more...intelligence gathering, till the dementors had decided to crash the party. The dementors had scared her witless. Sitting with Granger and Lovegood – cousin Hermione and Luna – and Astoria, Tracy and Lyra, she had been taken unawares as was Story, and they had been nearly kissed. That was until they were faced by a being far powerful – in fact the being was an embodiment of power. She still remembered the gory scene as the dementors and Snape had all been immolated in the fires of the Elder Dragon. It had been the one consuming memory of the day. She still couldn't get over the easy way in which Potter wielded his power, and then just as simply go over to the DADA Professor (who she noted was known far better than a teacher to Potter) rejoicing about being able to fly. And, if she cared to admit it, the reverse transformation from the Dragon showed that he was certainly easy on the eyes.

When she was caught staring therefore, Daphne froze and then blushed. She realised that she had been called on. She gave a slight nod to the group and gestured to the door of the Great Hall. If the cat was out of the bag, she would at least have some benefit out of it. Potter acknowledged with a nod and a grin, and then turned back to his pride (for that was the best way to describe the group).

Fifteen minutes later, Potter (now clean of the food residue that the burst of laughter had caused), Longbottom, Perks, Granger and Weasley (the later three shifting uneasily in the background) joined her by the doors of the Great Hall.

"Miss Greengrass," Hadrian said smoothly, in his best pureblood manner. He dropped a fleeting kiss to the back of her right knuckle. "It is an honour to see you fine morning. I hope I find you well?"

Daphne curtseyed very slightly, and replied in kind. "The honour is mine, my Lord. I am as fine as possible and I hope that it is the same with you?"

"Indeed." Then he reverted to Harry. "What may I help you with, Ms. Greengrass?"

"Straight to the point, I see. This has been something that I wanted to request of you for several days now, but especially since the incident last month. I want to – no, I need to learn to cast the Patronus Charm. And I have seen that you and Heir Longbottom can cast it very well. I request this boon that you teach me."

"Not that I won't, but Professor Flitwick has been showing a Pensieve memory of Neville and me talking about casting the charm..."

"That is true. But I was unable to cast it."

"Very well; would you mind terribly if a few others joined you?"

"Not at all – I wanted Astoria and my friends to be taught too. I just wished to find whether you were amenable to teach before asking permission to bring others."

"I will be honoured. I shall ask Professor Lupin to join us and supervise, if you don't mind."

"That will be acceptable. Thank you." It was formal and not exactly the best cover she had ever had. But it would do for the time being.

* * *

Neville corralled Moony after lunch and explained the request Daphne had made to Harry. They decided that twice a week after the last classes would be fine. Moony agreed to sponsor the whole arrangement as a kind of DADA study club, on the lines of the DA.

The Marietta Edgecombe incident had made all three in the know cautious. So Hermione had worked up a very complicated contract of sorts. All that was required of all members was very much along the lines of the oath Amelia had taken from all Ministry Office Bearers, only toned down to student levels. Also, there was no need to be bothered about a different DADA teacher, as the curse had been overpowered and eliminated already. Neville and Harry had discussed the charm with Moony, who had tried it by the alternative method. He managed the corporeal form (Moony, of course), instead of the immense silver mist that always erupted from his wand. He immediately gave the go-ahead. It was actually Tonks who was the inspiration of the method. She had, even in her sorrow, summoned her Patronus.

It was an assortment of students that signed up for the Patronus classes. Several NEWT students from all Houses who couldn't perform the charm joined the group comprised of third years and their siblings and friends.

Neville started the proceedings each in the Defence classroom, which had been modified with undetectable space expansion charms and the arrangement was made similar to the Wizengamot. He conjured Honeypaws. He sent the bear ambling through the crowd in all directions, making them relax. Harry followed suit. Neville started the interactions too.

"What do you feel when you interact with the Patroni?"

The answers were varied. "Happy", "peaceful", "contented" were some of the most common answers. The ones more on the mark but fewer in number were "protected" and "love". Moony was jotting these answers on the board behind him.

"That is the basis-"started Neville again.

"-to all magic!" completed Harry.

"Emotion and intent-"

"Ferocious desire-"

"-are the bases of powerful magic!"

"What we want you to do-"

"Before you cast the spell at all-"

"-Is try and fill yourself with all those emotions."

Oliver interrupted. "Our NEWT book talks about memories, though."

"That is true,"

"But it isn't correct."

"Could one of you explain? I get enough of that twin-talk from Fred and George anyway!"

This had the desired effect of putting everybody at ease.

"Sorry Ollie. Think of it this way. What do the dementors do? They feed on your happy memories. While conjuring the Patroni, if you power your emotions by your memories, you are unlikely to sustain that for long. Why are memories powerful? Think of the times when you'd bouts of accidental magic. Did you have those incidents because of the causal event, or because you felt a reaction in your mind to the event? Anything that happens magically due to our actions is a translation of our emotions through our magical energy. The memories have an undercurrent of emotion which is your subconscious reaction to any event," Neville explained.

"But what is it about choosing a sufficiently powerful memory?" asked Oliver.

"That is a myth. Exactly as Neville said, emotions power the memories, not the other way round. For example, there are several ways to be happy. Somebody could be happy to get an O on a test. Someone may feel exceptionally happy by winning a Quidditch game. Everyone has some basal form of happiness. Is it the same as extreme happiness?" asked Harry.

"The Patronus is a guardian, a protector. Just simple 'happy' can't make the cut. I can give an example, personal though it may be. I love my parents and grandmum. I want to protect them at any cost. It will make me beyond happy to see them healthy. It is not a memory for me, but rather an idea of happiness."

"So as he is trying to tell you, focus on your love or protective feeling for something else or someone else and let it fill you altogether. Alternatively, feel the protectiveness and love that you may have felt from someone or something. Those two emotions are all that matter. You only remember 'happy, loving' memories as such because they are based on those emotions. So forego memories altogether and just visualise filling yourself up with love for or from someone. Fill yourself up till you can feel nothing else."

"Close your eyes, and concentrate. Once you are done – or rather, you feel that you are done – the incantation is 'Expecto Patronum'. If you have problem focussing, think of someone you love or want to protect. It may be your parents, siblings, or friends; anybody. You want your magic to help protect them. When you are ready, come down here and perform with everyone watching. There are two reasons. First, this is brute force way to do away any fear of failure. There is no right or wrong or success or failure. You **_need_** to protect. That's all that matters. The other thing is that whatever mistakes you make will help others when the Professor corrects them. Remember, each person will only be allotted three tries. The spell is very draining."

As one, the people closed their eyes and then concentrated on the emotions. It was not easy. People never easily got generally accustomed to changing their beliefs altogether, or letting themselves free on order. Well unless people were like Luna. She was simply too different to conform to normal rules. Several people tried and quite a few got lots and lots of protective mist, but Luna was the one who had something close to a corporeal Patronus. She had told him that she had never been to the Magical Museum, so hadn't known about the Snorkack fossil before. Now though, she knew and that was her Patronus. She received fulsome praise. The lesson ended with tired but satisfied students trudging off, with everyone having managed at least the protective mist.

Over the next three sessions, several people managed quasi-corporeal forms. Ron's Jack Russell Terrier had returned. Hermione had, to the surprise of everyone managed two – 'Mione the Lioness and Firewing (Ron had to be silenced to prevent anyone knowing that Firewing was another of Harry's forms). Hermione spent the next two days blushing and avoiding Neville and Moony and even Ron. Fred and George's baboons were frolicking around, attempting to pull the tails of other Patroni. Oliver's eagle was to his satisfaction; Percy's donkey (hard-working and obedient) gave tremendous opportunity for jokes which his younger brothers and friends took every now and then; Penelope had a doe. Daphne had only privately shown the corporeal form to Moony and Neville. It was a scaled version of Nightflame. They could understand why. Nightflame had been the being that had actually saved her from the dementor's kiss, and it was no laughing or teasing matter as it was for Hermione. The Patronus was still the same size as Prongs. Even Blaise had a corporeal rock lizard. Flitwick had cornered the three instructors before one such session. He was quite happy with the progress the NEWT students were making, and had therefore decided to observe the instruction from under the Invisibility Cloak. He was very impressed. The sessions laid the basis for a response team for the future were it to be ever required.


	37. Chapter 37

**Eventful Christmas- I (17/18/19/20)**

The day before the Christmas, Luna, Hermione, Neville and Harry donned dragonhide gloves, fetched the special box for the tiara, and went off to the RoR. The girls had been warned to stay behind the boys because they did not have fairly developed shields. Well, Luna probably did, but they were untested and risks were best not taken. Adrenaline, killing curses and Fiendfyre were very poor alternatives for mental shields. It was after all, very likely, that there would be compulsion charms or something of that sort on the Diadem. Hermione and Luna would help spot the wretched thing, but would not go close. There was also something that Hermione had come up with, and it was a truly clever idea.

The day after classes for the term ended, three days before the train would leave, Luna went up to Helena Ravenclaw's ghost, or, as she was known to the student populace, the Grey Lady and asked for an audience. The quirky little Ravenclaw had made friends with the tower ghost in her first year.

"Helena," she called out in her dreamy musical voice.

"Ah, it's you, Luna. How are you? I didn't get to meet you much this term," the ghost answered, floating down to the girl's level.

"I am sorry about that Helena. Many things changed all of a sudden."

"Do they still bully you?"

"No, they don't. One of my friends sprayed the Nargles with Grim's breath-smoke. Now they don't affect me badly."

"That is good," Helena said with a smile. She liked the little girl and did not like the way her own house members treated her. "Was there something you wanted my help with, Luna?"

"Hmm?" asked Luna distractedly. "No, no. Actually, there was something we wanted to show you. I think you might get angry. But we thought that it would be best if we were truthful about this to you."

"Oh?"

"Yes. Will you meet my friends?"

"You have me intrigued, little lady. I think I shall meet your friends; I do think I shall, at that." She followed the girl who skipped away to the Room of Requirement, where a small sitting room had been made for the meeting. The three friends, she noted, were all Gryffindors, and not Ravenclaws.

As one, Hermione, Neville and Harry stood to greet her, Hermione curtseying, and the boys bowing and kissing the ghost's knuckle. Neville was the one chosen to speak. "Lady Ravenclaw, it is an honour to meet you."

"As it is mine to meet you all," she replied. "Luna said you had something to tell me which would likely draw my ire. We should get straight to the matter," she ordered imperiously.

"Indeed, my Lady." Taking a deep breath, he continued, "This is about the Diadem."

Helena's expressions turned stormy immediately. "I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN! YOU AREN'T THE FIRST TO COVET THE DIADEM! I REFUSE TO HELP YOU! AND YOU LUNA!" she roared, turning on the little blonde haired girl. "I BELIEVED BETTER OF YOU THAN TO BETRAY ME THUS!" Luna was cringing away in fear and hurt at that.

"LADY RAVENCLAW!" shouted Neville. "Please, Ma'am, listen to us before you lose your temper. We know why it is a sore point for you, and what we want to tell you is that we have found it. However, it has been turned into the receptacle of the worst sort of Necromantic Dark Magic by..."

"Tom?" completed Helena.

"Yes Ma'am. You knew?"

"No," she replied shortly. "But he was the only person I ever told the whereabouts of the Diadem. Logic dictates that he must have done something to it."

"Yes, my Lady. Would you consent to starting anew? We want to tell you what we know, Ma'am." Helena peered and glared at Neville, and then nodded curtly.

"I am Neville Longbottom, scion of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Longbottom, and of the Most Noble House of Dearborn. This is Lord Hadrian Potter, also the Lord Gryffindor, Lord Slytherin and Lord Peverell. This is my cousin and daughter of House Dearborn, Hermione Granger. You of course, know Luna. Now that the introductions are out of the way, I believe we can discuss the matter at hand."

"Yes. Before we start," she asked Harry, "are you the one who is temporally displaced?"

"Yes Ma'am. May I ask how it was that you knew?" He glanced at Luna, who had a faint smile on her face. She nodded at him gently.

"Fawkes and Hogwarts are temporally omniscient, my Lord Gryffindor. Hogwarts has been telling us who haunt her that her Heir doesn't know to talk to her."

"I am sorry Ma'am," Harry replied contritely. "I did not know of such sentience. Could you please tell Lady Hogwarts that I would like to learn as I don't know much apart from what appeared in Salazar's journals?"

Helena smiled grimly and nodded. "I shall do that. Now back to the matter at hand. Why and how do you know about the diadem?"

"My Lady, as you know that my friend here is temporally displaced, you can be given a brief explanation. Tom Riddle, who later took the name Voldemort, made several...soul pieces. Harry was on a mission to destroy those after his resurrection in the...other time. He found out that the Diadem was one such container."

"I see," she said, hatred seeping through her words. "I should've known. Tom did seem to be one who would indulge in magics most vile and evil. So you truly do wish to destroy the diadem."

"We are not sure, Ma'am. We wish to destroy the soul piece, yes. But we want to save such an important artefact that would remind us of Lady Rowena, and let Hogwarts display it with the pride and honour, that it deserves. As of now, we are collecting the known containers."

"How should I know that you don't want it?" Helena challenged.

"We firmly believe Ma'am, that, wisdom cannot be obtained through artefacts, but through experience and learning. We do not wish for undue gains. We offer oath to prove our intents."

Helena looked at them impassively for some time, before nodding. "Your offer is enough. May I know where it is?"

"You must know that this room changes into whatever the one who asks needs. This is the room of requirement. We wish to leave you alone with the Diadem, and will collect it two days hence. We will open it for you."

"Thank you," Helena said fervently. "Is there anything that I can do for you?"

"If it will not be too much, would you pass your learning and knowledge on this matter – anything that you already know or will learn henceforth – to us? We wish to do no harm to the Founders' artefacts. We would also be obliged if you could tell us about any personal belongings of the Founders' that have gone missing. Tom Riddle has used Helga Hufflepuff's Cup, Salazar Slytherin's locket and Ring, Lady Rowena's diadem and something else which we are not sure of, but know of, along with a diary that was destroyed at the end of last term. The other artefact of his is the Special Services to the School Award for setting poor Isaiah on Hogwarts, killing a student and getting Hagrid expelled. We have reason to believe he wanted to use the wand of a Founder and Gryffindor's shield also. But we have retrieved those. The last thing that I told you we know of, but aren't sure of is in the Magical Museum in Diagon Alley. I can feel it there. We have a theory that he intended to make eight such containers, using two artefacts each of each founder, apart from at least one personal possession. As of now we do not have a number to base the theory on, but we are assuming nine or thirteen. Also Salazar is accounted for, or at least so we believe. We've no way to actually confirm our theory. And," Harry added with a mischievous grin, "Could you convince the Bloody Baron to sever Sir Nicholas' head properly?"

"I will, children. You do me and Hogwarts a great service. I shall help you in your endeavours." She looked at Luna, who had resumed her placid face. "I am sorry, my Moon-child. The Diadem has been a sore point for me ever since I betrayed my own mother." She sighed. "I should have known you were the better person, Luna."

"It is alright Helena. You had a temporary case of Wrackspurts." Helena only gave an odd smile as she went to see the Diadem for herself.

"How did you know, Luna?" asked Harry, accosting her.

"How did I know what?" she asked back innocently.

"How did you know that I am...what did she call it? Ah yes, temporally displaced?"

"Helena told me that there was someone who was temporally displaced a few days before you met me at the end of last term. Since you were the only one who was behaving differently, I knew that it was you."

Harry wisely decided to just give the little blonde a hug and to not say anything.

Each of the four friends methodically worked their way around the room, collecting books of all sorts after testing them for any sort of magical influence. Even if they would not be able to tell whether it was cursed like the diary, they could at least be protected if it was something bad. It took them the whole day, but by the end, they had collected all the books which Dobby had miniaturised and taken to Gringotts for curse-breaking. They had been paid twenty-five galleons for the job. It was Luna who spotted the Diadem. The effect of the thing was obvious. She walked to it in a daze, before Harry tackled her to the ground. Neville quickly took the Diadem and placed it in the special box that he had in his pocket. Dobby popped the box away to Marauders' Place.

* * *

The trip back to King's Cross was fairly uneventful, initially. There were a few people checking in every now and then, but that was for the customary seasons' greetings. For those that didn't, like the first years and seniors, the group made a point to meet and greet. The quietness lasted for barely half the trip. By this time boredom had started settling in. It just didn't sit well with any of the Marauders. They sifted through several ideas back and forth with the twins to no avail, till Luna came up with the solution.

"Why don't you hijack the communication system on the train?" She received four identical, extremely evil grins. The occupants of the train were then subjected to four hours of people from each compartment singing carols. While there were a few Bludvic Bludds and Celestina Warbeck aspirants, the general consensus was that no Potter should ever be let near the magical communication system. Harry was locked out of the compartment as punishment for the better part of the next two hours.

Moony was again, not on the train. All teachers had to stay back for two days, and it was particularly terrible for Moony as the full moon was just round the corner on the 27th. Sirius would be side along apparating him to Marauders' Place before Christmas Eve. In the meanwhile, Amelia, Sirius and Harry would be going over to Grimmauld Place for the Locket, to the Gaunts' shack for the Ring and would be collecting the cup from Bellatrix's vault. Harry sincerely hoped there would not be any complications.

Down at the station, Sirius and Amelia had come to pick their respective wards. For Harry this was new. He now had a real family, a father to go home to. Amelia and Susan were both going to join the Blacks at Marauders' Place the next day, after putting the Ossuary under temporary lockdown. People, Harry could see, were having the same reaction to the old mutt as they had to him. Either they were afraid of him or sucking up to him. Amelia was also having problems due to Sirius' 'natural charms'.

Harry walked down to Sirius and gave him a hug. "Father, it is good to see you."

"And so it is good to see you too, son," Sirius replied in his 'pureblood' voice. "Now young mutt, how are things going on?"

"Just fine, old mutt; we need to collect that other furry mutt too, do we not?"

"Yes. But we need to visit some places with the beautiful lady here. She wants to **_know the_** **_time_**." Harry's eyes widened comically at that and he looked at Amelia, who nodded curtly.

"Does the 31st work for you?"

"It should."

"Good; I think I need you both and Moony, Neville and Hermione to **_tell you the time_**."

Susan looked at the three in confusion (what Nev would have called 'cute confusion') and made a mental note to ask her Aunt how she knew Sirius Black, and what the odd conversations the three had meant. "Why do you two call each other 'mutt'?" she asked curiously.

Sirius and Harry smirked identically. For Amelia, the stark resemblance to the terror two of James and Sirius was never more marked. "We will show you tomorrow, Sue." Susan pouted.

They soon met up with friends and their families, alliance members and children of the Alliance, informally. It was some sort of protocol. The alliance members generally rotated Christmas-cum-New Year Parties between them each year hosted a couple of days after Christmas. It was an unwritten rule that the party would be hosted by an active House with both a Lord and a Lady. It fell to reason that the list went down significantly at that. There were only seven Houses that could host the party. This would be the first such party that Harry would be attending, if invited, and he looked to Sirius for advice, and followed it without hesitation. The invitations were delivered roughly a week before Christmas Day.

On the other side, they met the Grangers and Hermione. Sirius had met the elder Grangers a few times over the past month, and had told them about their re-induction into the House of Black. He had also met David's mother, Ursula Granger nee Black. The Grangers had been invited to celebrate Christmas with the family, if they could. Hermione jumped at the idea, but David invited Harry and Sirius along with Amelia and Susan to the Grangers' family party instead. They would be over as Ursula's guests. It made sense. Larger parties did not get invited to smaller congregations – it was always the other way round. They also made plans to meet the Weasleys for lunch at a restaurant David recommended. Molly had warmed up considerably to the idea, and after the devastation of the Leaky Cauldron (which was being rebuilt), there was a readymade niche to step into for Molly. Both Sirius and Molly froze when they saw each other, but there was no doubting the easy camaraderie Sirius and Harry shared. Against her better judgement, Molly was civil to the ex-inmate. She had known the reputation Sirius had, as did James, and she feared that Sirius would see James instead of his godson. There was also the fact that she did not want to be replaced as the parental figure in Harry's life that she had assumed. She was somewhat right to fear on both counts. While Sirius did not see Harry as James, Harry was trying to be James for him. And yet, he was also trying to be like Sirius, albeit unconsciously. As for being replaced, Harry had replaced Molly around the same time as he had retrieved Ginny from the chamber.

* * *

Sirius also had a surprise for his son and for his to be wife and niece for Christmas day. It was something he loved, wanted, and in fact had been gifted to him by a woman he loved in various ways, and had left him his godson to care for. It was a fact that all the marauders had at one point had at least a crush on Lily Evans. But his Lycanthropy meant Remus wouldn't pursue her, while Sirius already had a betrothed in Marlene. He initially did not like Marlene for the same reason as any other decision his family made for him, but after he had started talking to her he realised that she was nothing like the Blacks. They had not fallen in love, but knowing that they were blood-betrothed, they had become very close friends, particularly over the time they spent as Order of The Phoenix operatives. And he was going off track again. Sirius knew that it was not normal, but like Harry, he too was stuck in two different times. There was no sense of anything beyond his innocence and also, guilt, in Azkaban. He had become a weird and terrible parody of a Rip van Winkle storyline. At least Harry had strong changes and fights to fight. Sirius had spent a majority of the time in Marauders' Place. It was a terrible thing that he was feeling jealous of his godson.

They picked up some Chinese takeout and apparated to Marauders' Place (which had only been expanded laterally after Mrs. Figg's eviction and a structure which completed the Hallows' sign was built adding more rooms for guests. This central 'line' had two rooms facing each other across a corridor which had twelve such rooms on each of its two floors. It had no ground floor), where Dobby was watching TV, specifically, Leeds defeating Arsenal 2-1. Both Marauders and the Elf scowled at the result, the agony of which was exacerbated by Tony Adams' own goal at the hour's mark. "The only way Arsenal will finish this season in a respectable manner is if they score ten goals a match. At least we have defeat-able (another concocted word, instead of the accepted 'beatable') opposition for the next four games!" Sirius groused as they took out all the anger on the chicken. It was amusing to see the elf and the man as passionate about football, but then again, Harry did not know much about either. He played along. It was a traditional obsession that had been started in the previous generation, and had to be carried on by him. He wondered whether his mum spent the Month of May wearing yellow ribbons.

Sirius had procured tapes of entire seasons from 1980-81 to 1992-93. The three spent the night watching the 1989 season.

* * *

Amelia arrived the next day with Susan around ten in the morning, only to find the two boys/men and the elf sleeping away the morning with the TV thing paused as Luton Town hosted Arsenal. She remembered this – Sirius had insisted on watching it sometime in November. The whole room was in proper disarray, exactly the sort that she would expect from a bachelor's pad, so to speak. It irritated her to no end. She had been worried about Susan's reaction to Sirius. The man had been a prisoner till very recently, even if he had recovered fairly well. She could only hope that the girl would accept Sirius as the man she knew him to be, on his own merits.

She shook them all awake, only for Sirius to mumble, "It is pointless, mate. Liverpool are going to win the season...lemme sleep," as he turned away. Harry was not too different. "I will do the assignment Hermi-nee, Puddlemere are spanking Chudley right now. 'Tis fun..." Susan giggled, or rather would have, as she tried to get around the fact that her Aunt knew these two people rather well enough to drop in unannounced. She'd also found blackmail material as she realised that Harry was dreaming about Hermione Granger. She was a girl, after all.

Amelia was getting incensed by the minute. "SIRIUS BLACK AND HARRY POTTER, WAKE UP THIS VERY MINUTE!" Amelia had used her Auror Commander's voice and it gave instant results. The two sprang from their positions on the couch and the floor respectively, blinking owlishly and groping around. Dobby took one look at the irate witch and popped off. "GET YOURSELVES CLEANED UP AND READY IN THE NEXT TWENTY MINUTES!" Amelia continued for good measure, and the two hastened to comply.

"Auntie?" asked Susan. "How do you know them so well?"

Amelia sighed. "I knew Sirius from before his incarceration in Azkaban, sweetie. And you and Harry were supposed to be brought up together."

"Really?" asked Susan wide-eyed.

"Yes. That is something that I need to talk to you about."

Twenty minutes later they were explaining things to Susan. "You see, Susie, Sirius is The Lord of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black, Son of House Potter and also was – is – my betrothed. I was to carry the name of Bones so that you would not have to be a second wife or something of that sort. And before you ask me, yes I loved him and still do, even though this prat is six years my junior and somehow is as much a child as his godson can sometimes be, and as he and James once were."

Susan gaped at her Aunt. "He was supposed to be _Uncle_ Sirius?"

Harry burst out into barking laughs at that. "Uncle Sirius, oh that is rich!"

Sirius was not in the least amused. "Tell us when you will be done," he said in a clipped tone. When Harry showed no intention to relent, he silenced him and turned to Susan. "Ignore him. He is touched in the head."

Amelia glared at Sirius before continuing, "Yes. He was supposed to be Uncle Sirius to you. If Peter had been caught, we would've been married, and Sirius and his godson, and I and my niece would have been family."

"But you said he is Lord Black..."

"I had a betrothed, Marlene McKinnon for the Black Line. She was killed by Death Eaters, or so it is said. Nobody found her body. And given what we know about Pettigrew, such situations turn me into old Mad-Eye. Azkaban does that to you," he said bitterly. "After I refused to be a Death Eater, I was blasted off the tapestry, but not disowned officially. My younger brother Regulus was a wiser man than I, though he chose to be Voldemort's minion – with a catch. He wilfully betrayed Voldemort and found the way to defeat him once and for all. But being a Death Eater is a lifetime of service. There is no retirement plan. Once he knew what the matter was, he left clues, but was himself killed. He went out fighting. In the end, in our own ways, both Regulus and I worked against Voldemort. And Susan – don't fear the name. It is a fake."

"Lord Black..."

"Call me Sirius, Susie, there's a good lass. I am accustomed to formality only from those I don't like. And believe me, I had met both of you – you and this git here – while you were wee babies. I loved you both from right that moment."

Susan smiled at the man. "Sirius, for all that it is worth, I am really sorry." Sirius smiled at her. "I hope I can say this for my Aunt. Whenever I was told about the boy-who-lived, I was told that he was betrayed by a very close friend of the Potters, but you were never named. My Aunt did believe your innocence personally, though she could not really speak it."

"Thank you Susan. And I know your aunt too well to think otherwise, though I must confess, I wondered why she never even came for visits." Susan made to protest, but Sirius continued, "I know why not. Bureaucracy worked at its finest. I can only thank her for not judging me by my name and helping Harry to free me after I escaped."

"How did you escape?"

Sirius smiled brightly. "Now you are asking the right questions young lady!"

"You do know that you are speaking like Dumbledore, don't you Padfoot?"

"I remember silencing you, Pup," Sirius ground out.

"I am far powerful than you are, old mutt."

"Ego isn't fetching Harry," Amelia said.

"Sorry Auntie Amy," Harry replied unapologetically.

"You aren't really sorry," Amelia replied.

"Of course I am not. How can I be when I can take Sirius' mickey?"

"Do you mind? I am talking to my new niece here, git." Turning to Susan, he asked, "Where were we?"

"You were telling me how you escaped."

"Hmm. Harry broke me out."

"WHAT?"

"Yes. He learnt about me and found out Peter Pettigrew to be the Weasleys' rat at the end of last term. He put two and two together, and learnt the Patronus charm and allied charms to make the Happiness reach me. He cast – what is that you call it, Pup?"

"A Happiness Hamper," Harry supplied helpfully.

"Yes that. He sent me Happiness Hampers till he had a house of his own, and had Pettigrew arrested by his Garnarukran friends. Then he gave me the go-ahead to break out. I slipped out in my Animagus form."

"You are an animagus too?" Susan asked wide eyed.

"Yes. Mind you, after I came here, I learnt that I was doing it wrong all along, but that comes later. Harry kept casting Happiness Hampers and we shared the Dementor Effects for the rest of the time till my escape."

"Will you show me?"

"Will I show you what?"

"Both the Happiness Hamper and your Animagus form," Susan promptly replied.

"Of course; Harry, send her a Hamper will you?"

Harry silently sent the girl a hamper, only to frown as she collapsed and started twitching. "What is it with these girls? Every time I do this they start twitching and flailing!" he yelled in frustration.

Amelia watched her niece suffering...immense pleasure. Then, what Harry said permeated through her brain. "You did this to other girls?"

"Yeah; Ron was being a prat and he got Hermione's temper to volcanic temperatures. So I sent her and her dorm-mates with whom she was...er...discussing the matter the Hampers and they had the same reaction! She spent the next two days grinning like a loon!" Both adults burst out laughing at that. "What? Tell me!" They just laughed even more.

"How did you get them together and keep the Hampers secret?" Sirius asked at last.

"I got into their dorm, of course!"

Sirius took one look at him, the grabbed Harry in a headlock. "Oh, my son is a Marauder!" He sniffed and wiped away fake tears. "You did what none of us could do! I am so, so proud!"

"Sirius!" scolded Amelia. "Don't spoil, goad and encourage him!"

"But Amelia!" protested Sirius.

"NO!"

Sirius pouted. "Alright," he said in exaggerated defeat.

"Now listen here, Harry. No more sending Hampers to girls, and no more going into girls' dorms. Do you understand?"

"Alright; but I was just trying to help! And can somebody tell me what has happened to Susan?"

"I will tell you later, Pup. It is not something I can tell you with her around."

"I haven't hurt her, have I?" Harry asked with real concern.

Amelia snorted. "No Harry. She isn't hurt – quite to the contrary, in fact. This is similar to what Remus told you the other day. Susan could get addicted to the Hampers."

"Okay."

"How did you get into the girls dorm anyway?" asked Susan, who had finally regained control, though she still had a massive twitch and a gigantic grin.

"By my animagus form," answered Harry. "I just scampered up the stairs after giving in to the animal instincts completely."

"How?" asked Susan just as Sirius said, "But we had tried in our seventh year and it didn't work!" in protest.

"Did you become the animal? Maybe you didn't. Anyway, be thankful you didn't. Imagine the havoc Pettigrew might have caused." Sirius shuddered at the thought.

"You didn't answer me, Harry. How did you transform in the common room and scamper up the stairs? You are too large for the Castle's Doors!"

"I was in my Pup form Susan."

"You...What?" she shrieked as the implications hit home. "You have another form?"

"No. I have two more. Both Sirius and I do. Even Neville has three and we are working on a fourth. Anyone can do that."

"Neville is an animagus?" Susan asked in vehement surprise.

"Yes. But don't tell him that I told you." Harry noted that she latched on to Neville's forms immediately.

"Pup, let us show her. We are confusing everyone here with seemingly several parallel conversations." And so Sirius transformed into Padfoot and Harry into Pup. Susan gasped, as Amelia crouched down to the two canines and petted them. Harry then gave in to the Grimm's instincts, red-eyed and smoke breathing.

"A Grimm!" both ladies screamed. Sirius joined in with the same and Susan almost fainted. Slowly, the two transformed back. It took the Bones girls a long time to calm down.

When she had calmed down adequately, she asked, "Can you teach me?"

"I can. But I won't. Generally, ladies are taught by ladies and males are taught by males – unless a husband or a wife teaches their spouse. You will realise why." That caused Susan to blush heavily.

"And, well, Susan that, is why we call each other some sort of dog-appellation. Harry is my Pup, and I was once known as – and still am – Padfoot. Does that answer the question you asked us yesterday?"

"It does." Susan then looked at the two oddly and said, "Who could've imagined seeing you two in your natural habitats?"

"You mean as domestic dogs?" asked Sirius, making her crack up again. "No; seriously, you liked Pafoo' and Onsh as you called us, very much, especially our fur. You were one bad fur puller. In fact, both I and Prongs, I mean James, Harry's dad, used to take you on rides when you were very little. We always made sure to hide from your Aunt though."

"What was he?" Susan asked curiously.

"A stag – you loved his antlers." They talked some more about little Susan, and her parents, and Susan found that she liked Sirius very much.

Amelia felt relieved. Susan was the most important person for her, and she had taken to Sirius quite easily. It had been something she feared while moving their relationship ahead.

* * *

After breakfast, they went first to Grimmauld Place, the London home of the House of Black. Wands out, Sirius and Harry made small slices to their thumbs and wiped the blood on the door. Amelia and Susan waited outside on the pavement, sitting on chairs Sirius had conjured, under notice-me-not, disillusionment and repellent charms. Whichever way they looked at things, Kreacher was of questionable sanity. Until the elf and the portrait had been dealt with, they weren't going to subject either of them to the bleak old House. It was simply too dangerous and not worth the risk.

Back-to-back, they entered the House. By the time Harry had first entered Grimmauld Place in the O.T., it was already being inhabited by people; so most of the undesirable magic had been done away with. When they found large enough space for them to stand without being hurt in anyway, Sirius called Kreacher. The elf popped into existence in front of them immediately and started hurling nasty abuses.

"Dirty half-blood and blood-traitor scum of my mistress' loins is being returning and orders Kreacher around like he is Master..."

"I am your Master, Kreacher. I'm Lord Black," Sirius growled, thrusting his ring into Kreacher's face. He wanted nothing more than to beat the snot out of this thing – he had hated the elf all his life. But Sirius did not want to show what Harry called his Vernon side. It had been the ultimate insult from his godson. So he hurried on. "Kreacher, I know that my brother had told you to destroy a locket he had stolen from the Dark Lord. I know how to destroy it. I order you to give it to me after removing any magic you have placed on it."

Instantly, the wretched creature's demeanour changed. "Bad master is being knowing how to destroy the locket? It be's dirty and evil."

"I know how, Kreacher. Regulus was doing just the same thing I was and am doing – we were both fighting the Dark Lord. Regulus was more efficient by far, yet."

"But how is bad master being opens locket?"

Harry crouched down to Kreacher's level, making sure to display his Heirs' Ring and Slytherin House Ring. "You couldn't have opened it Kreacher. It was Salazar Slytherin's locket. You would need to speak Parseltongue to open it." He showed his rings to the elf whose eyes widened, and continued, "I am a Parselmouth, Kreacher, and I am also Lord Slytherin. The locket will open for me."

"Nasty half-blood is being Lord Slytherin?" Kreacher asked almost reverently.

"I am."

"Mistress!" shouted the elf. "Mistress! Lord Black and Lord Slytherin is being coming into this home!" The Portrait immediately started screaming and screeching. Only the words ensured that it was not in distaste. Neither had time to deal with the demented portrait as of then, so Sirius flicked his wand (twelve inches, holly and dragon heartstring) and shut the curtains over the portrait.

"Kreacher, time is of essence if we wish to destroy the locket. I don't want to talk to my **_mother,_** " he said with a sarcastic stress, "right now. Just bring the true locket here. Remove any magic you have placed on it. Do not try to find any loopholes or technicalities in my orders. Also, henceforth, you are never to believe in the pureblood supremacy beliefs. You will make a list of everything that anyone in the family has ever spoken in your presence or ordered you to do. After that, you will forget everything, except for any orders that you shall be given after this sentence ends. You will never answer to Bellatrix or Narcissa. Draco and Lucius are dead, and so is Rudolphus. I have reinstated Andromeda and her daughter, who has the gift of House Black. Her husband is now a son of the House of Black. Remember, Amelia Bones, Harry and I, as of now, are the only people you will answer to. Do you understand everything?"

"Yes master."

"Look, I don't hate you Kreacher. I just have to do Regulus' work fast, or his death will be a waste. Do you want that?"

"NO! Master Regulus be dying bad death. Kreacher is not wastes it!" He popped off and brought the Horcrux to them. Sirius retrieved the crystal case and gingerly placed the locket in it with a look of utmost disgust. The glazed look Kreacher had in his eyes dissipated almost instantly.

Harry crouched down to Kreacher's level. "Kreacher, I'm going to destroy that portrait of Lady Walburga. I want it replaced by a portrait of Regulus. Afterwards, if you want, you can have a new portrait of Lady Walburga commissioned to keep in your room. I also want you to clean up the House of Black and make it fit for the residence of the Lord of an Ancient and Most Noble House. Whatever changes you can make, just ask Sirius, okay? On second thoughts, ask Amelia and Susan. Can you do that?" He did not wait for the Elf to answer. He summoned Gryffindor's sword and slashed across the woman who tortured Sirius. The deafening shrieks of pain died out after some time.

"I will be doings that, brat-master Harry."

"Good; now remember to never use the words blood traitor, half-blood, or mudblood. If you want to use a term for muggle-born people, just use the term Salazar Slytherin coined: newblood. Do you understand?"

"Yes Master."

"Now, I will send over Winky elf to help you."

"Master sends Winky?" Kreacher asked in unabashed joy. "Master is beings very kind! Winky is being Kreacher Elf's granddaughter! She is working with Crouchy!"

"No longer, Kreacher. Sirius is now also going to be Lord-Regent Bones. Winky works for Amelia now."

"Thank you, kind master!"

"And Kreacher, I want you to wear some clothes. I am not freeing you," he added hastily at the Elf's mounting shock and dismay. "I just want you dressed in a manner that is befitting your status as the elf of an Ancient and Most Noble House. These rags do not befit that position. If I show you the clothes, can you make them for yourself?"

"I is being doing that Master." He was shown a tuxedo, which he copied and promised to tailor and wear. He also promised to learn and speak proper English

"Excellent! Get to work then, Kreacher, we've this House's reputation to salvage!"

"That went well," muttered Sirius, as he let in Amelia and Susan, both of whom grimaced immediately at the state of the House.

"Well we did attack his pulse point. Praise Regulus and voila, Kreacher is a wonderful help." Sirius nodded grimly.

* * *

The work at the Gaunt Shack was done far too easily. Firstly, the Peverell House Ring was a Portkey straight to the Shack. Then it instructed him on the way to remove the enchantments on the Shack. There were three poisonous snakes, none of them indigenous, which were killed by slicing with the Sword. The access was also similarly easy. It was when they reached the ring that Sirius had to be stunned. He didn't have Cassiopeia teaching him Occlumency. After firing several superpowered 'Finite Incantatem' at the Ring, Harry could feel the banging of the spells on his shields reducing to a dull thrum. He nearly forgot about the Elder Wand. A 'Finite Incantatem' using that resolved the issue altogether. It was only then that he levitated it into the case. He revived Sirius before sagging in tiredness. The fight against Voldemort's spells had taken a lot out of him, again. Sirius quickly apparated him to Grimmauld Place again, where he was forced to sleep off the effects after a hearty snack.

* * *

Later that evening, Amelia received a communication from the Auror guarding Dumbledore (he was a high security patient). The old man had woken. He had also specifically asked to meet Harry. The way in which Harry's face contorted in fury, hatred and indignation scared his companions, none more so than Susan. At least the other two knew why.

But then, instead of blowing up as he so very wanted to, he took a deep breath and composed his face into an expressionless mask. The sudden change scared them far more. "This is going to be the real Dumbledore," he murmured to himself. "Sirius, Auntie Amy, would you two mind coming with me? I have no intention to be alone around him."

"That goes without saying, Pup."

"No. Understand the seriousness of the situation, Sirius," he said with a glare, and in a tone that Sirius did not come up with the pun-joke. "This is Dumbledore we are talking about. This is Dumbledore, who I have defeated – as was necessary – by spurious means. If he is still under the effect of that spell, he will be liable to try anything."

"Paranoid, much?"

"If I were Voldemort or Snape, I would have contingency plans in place to ensure that the control would continue unimpeded. I would have started Dumbledore on a regimen of mind-altering potions while he was under my control to infuse my thought process into him, making it as natural as would be possible."

"When did you last meet Mad-Eye, Harry?" Amelia asked innocently.

"Not yet, in the here and now. But that doesn't mean I am being needlessly paranoid. There simply is no scope for being careless. I would appreciate if you two spoke to Dumbledore for the most part. I want to observe. Let me predict. He will start off with "Harry, my boy," and all that faux joviality, before giving you a condescending acknowledgement. This is pure, classic Dumbledore – a move to ensure that you will start to feel fidgety, as if you are intruding. If I am right, and no offence Suzy, but he won't even acknowledge you.

"Next, he will try to get you out of the room by saying that he has something important to discuss. The Dumbledore under Snape's control might even have laced his words with a mild compulsion. I am not sure about this one. He'll then talk about absolutely nothing of importance when you refuse to leave. At this point, I will deal with him."

You seem to have too much information on everyone, including their actions, Harry," Susan said suspiciously.

"Of course I do. It is my business to know other people's business," he said with a Lockhart-esque grin.

"You really are a smug prat aren't you, you git?"

"If Auntie Amy had allowed it, I would have wagered you twenty galleons."

"Right now, given how – as Susan said – you are being a smug prat, I myself will wager you fifty," Amelia said.

"Prepare to lose, woman!"

* * *

The four stood in St. Mungo's the following day, the 20th of December, awaiting clearance to be met by Dumbledore. Even as they waited, Harry turned over all three wands to Sirius. He did not want to be enticed by the idea of killing Dumbledore. The man in question looked totally different when they finally saw him. His hair and beard had both been trimmed to give him the appearance of an old man admitted for his age related problems. Harry schooled his face into an expressionless mask and mercilessly squashed his bloodthirsty side down. He wanted Dumbledore to make all the mistakes. Moreover, as he had to remind himself yet again, this was now in a fairly high probability, the real Dumbledore. He would have to be studied before any stand with or against him could be taken.

"Ah, Harry my boy," said the man jovially, "and who's this? Sirius and Amelia is that you? Please do sit." Sirius had brought along a bag of sherbet lemons and other assorted sweets. Dumbledore ruffled through them and beamed at the man. "Thank you so much Sirius."

The Blacks and Bones sat in the chairs reserved for visitors. Susan was fidgeting as she only knew that her three companions were in total disagreement with the Headmaster. The other three just stared at Dumbledore who was happily sucking on a sherbet lemon. The Auror on guard duty and the Healer assigned to Dumbledore looked at the man with a mixture of reverence for who he was, confusion regarding his behaviour and pity because they felt his age was finally catching up with him. When neither side spoke for at least five minutes, and both his overseers had seen that the visitors which included Sirius Black and Harry Potter, and Director Bones and her niece had not responded to Dumbledore's pleasantries whatsoever.

"Professor Dumbledore?" asked the Auror. "You called these people."

"What? Oh yes." Then he frowned. "I only called Harry." As one all four stood up and made to leave. The healer, Auror and patient were flabbergasted.

"He wanted to talk to Lord Potter, Director Bones!" protested the Auror.

Amelia was not amenable to being questioned in this matter. Harry had pegged Dumbledore perfectly. He had done exactly what Harry had said he would.

"Lord Potter is Lord Black's son. And I am here to accompany them. You, Wilbert, have no business to decide whether Lord Potter wants to talk to someone or not. And may I remind you, that your loyalty should lie not with individuals but with your job. Right now, you are showing excessive loyalty to _Mister_ Dumbledore." The Auror Harris Wilbert stepped back.

"Amelia, listen now," protested Dumbledore. "I just wanted to have a very important discussion with Harry here..."

"Whatever you want to say to him will have to be said in the presence of Amelia or me. I am his godfather, and she is someone he trusts. If you have anything to say, it will be with us present or not at all. And if you do care, Albus, then you shall ask for privacy from your babysitters as well." Sirius' voice was soft, menacing, but filled with contempt against the man who had connived to tear his family apart. "We know much more than you ever would Albus, and I think it is time you stop throwing tantrums and get of your high chair. Be a man for once, if you have the courage." He looked to the Healer Martins and Auror Wilbert and said softly, but firmly, "Get out." Under the combined glares of three extremely politically powerful people, one of whom still had the wildness of Azkaban, the two hastened out of the door.

Amelia was about to cast standard protective charms and wards, but Harry stopped her. He took back and used the Elder Wand (Amelia, Susan and Sirius' eyes widened upon seeing Harry use Dumbledore's wand) and silently cast all the protections Hermione did and then added a level of imperturbability to the protections. From the corner of his eye he could see Dumbledore look at the wand with wistful longing and smiled to himself. Once he was done, he pushed all the chairs together and transfigured them into a squashy couch large enough to seat them all and then nodded to Amelia and Sirius to signify that he was done.

"Do you even need to speak the incantations anymore, Harry?" Dumbledore asked in what seemed to be genuine curiosity. Perhaps it really was, for Fawkes flashed in to Dumbledore's side and perched on the head of his bed. The bird then started crooning slightly, calming tempers. Harry looked at Sirius to intervene.

"He hasn't needed to speak the incantations since the end of last term," Sirius replied shortly. Then with definite pride in his voice, he said, "He can even cast the Patronus Charm silently!"

"Oh? Would you care to show us, Harry?"

Sirius gripped Harry's shoulder and gave the one finger tap sign signifying 'yes'. Harry went a step further, and sent a Hamper to Dumbledore, aimed at helping whatever goodness remained in the man. The Patroni swirled around him and around Fawkes. The Phoenix was a symbol of purity of being, but the Patronus was a symbol of purity of magic. Fawkes trilled a long song happily. As 'Mione pawed gingerly at Albus, he gave a heartfelt sigh and said, "Marvellous!"

"Is that why you wanted to meet him, Albus? To see his Patroni or his control on his magic?" asked Amelia with an air of impatience. She caught the look in Harry's eyes that announced without words that he had won the wager. Amelia so hated to lose and she had just lost fifty galleons.

Harry had an extreme urge to strengthen his Occlumency shields to maximum all of a sudden as they waited for Dumbledore's answer.

"No, Amelia. I wanted to thank him."

"Oh?" asked Sirius. Of the others, Amelia had schooled her surprise, Susan hadn't and Harry remained impassive. Dumbledore frowned.

"Yes. I believe it was Harry who freed Fawkes from the curse. By killing Snape," Dumbledore spat the name, "he freed me from the control. Do you know how the curse works, Sirius?"

"I cannot say that I do, Headmaster."

"It works on two components. One is the casting and the other is the control. Anyone loyal to the caster could perform the control part. The only rider is that if the controller is of lesser power than the controlled, the curse has to be renewed frequently."

"Is it so?" asked **_Director Bones._**

"Yes. Severus had to reassert the control every two days."

"I see. Is that all?"

"You do not want to say anything?"

"You called us because you wanted to speak. As of yet, we haven't had any fruitful discussion to which to respond, Headmaster," Harry tiredly said. "As of yet, the only things we've heard is blaming. Professor, you're trying to blame your failings on a man who I never respected, always hated but still will give the honour reserved to an opponent. Why are you denigrating the dead?"

"You are defending Severus, I see."

"You know full well, that it's Garnarukran tradition to honour the enemy too, if he died in battle, fighting honourably. I can see you are playing games. And I don't have much patience to deal with you. I'll ask you outright. What do you want?"

"Indeed. What do I want? I want two things, chiefly. Firstly, I want the answer to a question. How did you feel when you killed Severus?"

"I knew I had to kill him. I am not happy that I had to take his life, but I wanted revenge. Most importantly, I wanted to ensure that Voldemort would not remain alive due to this one Death Eater. I feel sad that I had to take yet another life, but I don't feel sad that I took out an enemy, one among the rank of the hostiles, preemptively."

Dumbledore started chuckling. "You, my boy, have become grey. This is most excellent." Fawkes trilled in agreement. "If you had felt elated that you killed him, beyond the fact that you defeated him, I would've thought that you were going on the path to darkness. I will not deny you the happiness and relief that revenge, however fleeting, will bring you."

"Alright," Harry dismissed with a shrug.

"The second thing," Dumbledore pushed on, "is that I ask you to forgive me for everything."

All the visitors were quiet. "No. You don't deserve forgiveness, yet. Like all things, it too has to be earned."

Dumbledore looked at Harry with shrewdness and contemplation. "Is that the way you will think, Harry? I don't have many years to live. Who knows, you might miss your chance to forgive me."

"I think that would be you missing your chance at redemption. As I said, you have to earn your peace of mind. Only that way can one truly enjoy it."

"You have changed."

"Being forced to live by others' decisions makes a cocoon, Headmaster. Breaking free makes one stronger."

"What do you think I need to do?" Dumbledore asked curiously. He was having a discussion about the nature of change and forgiveness and all such things with a thirteen year old.

"You need to forgive yourself for the four deaths you have never forgiven yourself. You have to realise that the one truth that you seek, it no longer matters. You have to realise that one day, they will all still be there for you, waiting, on the other side. I know, for I have been there, Headmaster. You have let sorrow and misplaced guilt blind yourself. They have made you remiss in your duty. You strive to drive others away from the pain you felt, but forget that emotions don't fight a war. Justice does. I will tell you what you once told me. Do what is right, not what is easy. You forgot to punish your students' misdemeanour, hoping they would find the error in their ways. Now, only death can correct them."

"You know..." Dumbledore whispered, wide-eyed.

"I do. There are some people I met in a place that people fear, but shouldn't, apart from Dad, Mum, and both sets of Grandparents." Here Sirius clasped his shoulder very painfully. "It was the night when I oscillated between the worlds as I tried to get rid of a parasite. Those people told me that I had to free you before I could relay their message and forgiveness."

"Are you... do you mean...?"

"Yes. You know, I crossed over briefly when I got my scar cleansed. It was so nice, peaceful and happy. Everything here seemed so pointless and meaningless – mere squabbles of overgrown bullies. But those people, a little girl who was distressed by your first fall and lost her life in it, in particular told me that for all your great capabilities as a Warlock, a Wizard and sorcerer, you have always been a bit too susceptible to idealistic suggestion. She is unhappy that you have kept her killer – who also took away her niece and nephew – alive, still." Dumbledore nearly shot up and winced in pain. Sirius and Harry helped him become comfortable again. "She is not happy. But she understands why it pains you. So let me relay, in their words, "You are forgiven. For whatever it is that you wish to be forgiven, you are forgiven. Just don't fail those that still look up to you for guidance. Trust those who trust you." I've quoted it, headmaster, as I was told."

"Are they happy?" Dumbledore asked.

"Where they are, Professor, no unhappiness can touch them. There are slight disagreements, of course, but unhappiness? No. I can testify, sir, that it was just too great a temptation to stay back."

Dumbledore cracked a wan smile. "Did she say when I could join?"

"No sir. I truly do not know. May I be so audacious as to quote what you said to me once back to you? "Death is but the next great adventure," you had said. Perhaps not knowing is what makes it that much more...adventurous?" Here Dumbledore chuckled outright. "She did say though, that you still have some work to do with leading Magical Britain through the reformation it needs direly. How long that will take, she truly did not say."

There was a protracted, but not uncomfortable bout of silence. "That still leaves the part regarding you forgiving me."

Harry sighed. "I do not know. I am not yet ready to forgive you sir. Your actions, even though not your own, **_probably_** ," he added with a rather pronounced stress which told everyone that Dumbledore was not yet of the hook, "have caused me far more hurt and damage than a person can possibly bear. I came very near to snapping and travelling down that path that Tom Riddle walked – minus the quest for immortality, of course. The ones in that place helped me. But I have still a lot to heal, and you have still a lot to atone for, before I may be ready to forgive you. To forgive will mean that I shall trust you once again as much I once did, and I must say it without hesitation that such trust, as of now, exists not. It may come in time, but that time is not now."

"I understand," replied Dumbledore. "I have failed you and the whole of magical Britain for the past several years. I must confess that I have spent all the time after you came out of that Chamber stewing over perceived slights to me, without considering the consequences of my actions. Whether or not those thoughts and actions were mine is of no importance. But I must say that this is most excellent. I thank you for being so forthright. I must say that I am proud of the person you are becoming, and that I think I rather like you this way than the person you would have become if you had been on the path that my actions had set out for you."

"Thank you, sir."

"With that in mind, I must ask you, what do you think I should do?"

"You are far more experienced, far wiser than I will ever be, sir. At best I can only suggest that you should not forget that people have lives and that every life is valuable, except if it is that of a DE. Do not consider this as me pointing out your mistakes sir, but we would like it if you became a teacher again. We have been here for nearly half an hour, sir, but you have not even acknowledged Susan. She is your student too, sir, and you have not set a very good example for a teacher. Sirius was exonerated, and it was your moral and legal responsibility to ensure that no innocent suffered the horrors of Azkaban. You failed him, far worse than you failed me. He was your student once, who fought with and for you in the last war, and yet lost twelve years of his life to terrible horrors. You offer him no apologies and also nothing more than simple acknowledgement. Director Bones, another ex-student, is an upstanding witch of honour, who has chosen to talk to you instead of revelling in Christmas with her newfound family in what little respite she finds from her work. Again, you do not find in yourself to talk to her. It is these things that the person I told you about warns you against. People, and not agendas, make society, war and anything that is not material."

Dumbledore ducked his head, before turning to Susan. "Please accept my apologies, Miss Bones. It truly seems that I've lost touch with my students. It seems I really have fallen too far. And Sirius, I think we need to have a long talk when I am finally released from this gaol. And the same goes for you, Amelia. May I belay my congratulations on your impending marriage?"

"Thank you, Headmaster," Lord Black said simply.

"I've something to be given to you as a sign, Professor," Harry said seriously. "I believe I'll take your leave now. The visiting hours draw to a close. I've family to visit." He made to leave, but paused and placed a package one containing what were surely books and the other pudgy on the bedside table. "I've a question. If there was a choice between saving one immediately and sacrificing this one person for the betterment of the Wizarding World or for a chance to help someone **_redeem_** themselves or for a spy to keep his position, what would you choose? Saving the person or the other option?"

Dumbledore stumbled over his words. "I...don't really know. I'd like to think I'd do whatever is correct in the situation."

Dumbledore immediately realised that it wasn't the correct answer. Harry's face went as blank as a clean board and just as impassive as well. "I see." Two words said in the most inflectionless and emotionless manner told Dumbledore that he had just made yet another mistake. He seemed to make too many of those, lately.

The old man could only look at his pupil's departing back with much sadness. He could recognise the mistakes – his mistakes, irrespective of whether or not he was controlled – had caused this seemingly irreparable breach between them.

* * *

"Hello godmother," he said softly. "Hello Uncle Frank." He patted each of their hands in turn. "I didn't know much, you know. I didn't know you before. I didn't even know of you before. So forgive me if I don't know what to say. Anyway, I duelled against Snape to the death last month. We even caught and killed Peter. I am sorry to give you the bad news. He and Fenrir's pack ate Mr. Dearborn, your brother. And it was Peter who betrayed you, using the slip of parchment. I'm sorry. So is Sirius. But don't you worry, godmother. I've Neville's back, just as he has mine. He is going to kill Crouch now. He is a very strong Wizard, you know?

"I don't know if you can hear me. But it is alright. I just wanted to meet you again. I must have done so, before. I will go now. I will come again. It was nice meeting you."

* * *

Back in his room, Dumbledore opened the books-package first. It contained a letter.

 _Respected Headmaster,_

 _Are you Bilbo Baggins, enamoured by power you should not hold? Are you Bilbo Baggins, unable to get past the responsibility of holding power which you shouldn't? There are several Frodos willing to help you share the burden!_

 _Are you Théoden, led astray by the words of your Wormtongue? Your Wormtongue, Snape, is no more. Will you gather the strength to fight again to defend what is right?_

 _Are you Isildur, who made the mistake of letting evil to fester? Become Aragorn instead, willing to fight the grim fight to correct those mistakes!_

 _Are you Gandalf the Grey, lost in the abyss to a fight you chose? Be resurrected as Gandalf the White. Are you Saruman, led astray by the enemy? Give up the lust for power, for knowledge and wisdom are your greatest strengths. Gather elf, man and dwarf, and lead the fight against the darkness that approaches._

 _The Elves of Rivendell await you on the shores to the West, willing to accept you if you are true. We need you as Gandalf again, superior in knowledge, skill and wisdom._

 _Read the books and you will see that, there are parallels. We are there to help you pick up the strings of the fight, where you were forced to abandon them._

 _Yours in Disappointment, and in Hope,_

 _Harry James Potter_

The Books were The Silmarillion; The Hobbit; The Fellowship of the Ring; The Two Towers; and The Return of the King. Dumbledore was intrigued. Nobody had ever given him muggle books before.

The other package was soft. He opened it to find thick woollen socks.

"Arianna, Marianne, Percival and Persephone forgive you. Forgive yourself. This token is from them. Gellert Grindelwald is a chink in the Order's Armour. **_Execute_** him immediately."

Sirius, Susan and Amelia were shocked as Dumbledore said, "Thank you, Harry, my boy," before he started sobbing.

* * *

Later that evening, Sirius anonymously dropped in a tip regarding the curse, and also a suggestion to check for mind-altering potions. He then spent the rest of his time making plans for the seventy galleons his son had won from his wife and niece to be.


	38. Chapter 38

**Eventful Christmas– II (20/21)**

* * *

 **This contains the last rant. Why is he ranting? That's answered in the next Chapt.**

* * *

The aftermath of the meeting with Dumbledore was not very good for Harry. The Boneses and Sirius had tried to talk to Harry but to no avail. Harry had tried his level best to carry out one of Cassiopeia's order's this one coming on Saturday night. But just because he had done it, did not mean he was happy. He had helped the man, who, though under influence, had caused the Death of Harry's Parents indirectly by letting Snape get away. He had caused him all the pain by putting him with the Dursleys and taking him away from Sirius. And he was not even considering the original timeline. He had decided to forego food and just slept away the revulsion he felt for the man. The confusion that he felt regarding who was real and who wasn't did not help matters at all.

Harry remained in self-imposed sequestration for the whole day, till Sirius became very frustrated, and called Hermione and Neville over before apparating Moony in. Harry had decided he wanted all of his confidants together when he told Amelia everything. But Sirius pushed the date up. He could understand Pup's anger after what he had experienced. He could also understand Amelia's behaviour – she was the Chief Law Officer, after all.

The two teenagers came in a literal whirlwind. Neville did not wait for much explanation with Moony, Sirius and Amelia at his heels and Hermione beside him, he turned into the Bear and crashed open the door to Harry's room. Hermione was ready to pounce on Harry and bring him back to civilisation as she once had done at Grimmauld Place. What none of them were bargaining for was the blank, gaunt look on Harry's face as he sat on his bed propped against the headboard.

"Prongslet!" yelled Sirius as he went to shake his son. Harry did not look at him. Sirius took him in a firm hug and would not let go. It was five minutes before Harry spoke the most terrible two sentences, in a raspy, emotionless voice. "I did not lose the scar-link, Padfoot. They found him; Avery and Gibbon found him."

* * *

Sirius spent the time till afternoon, being an irresponsibly responsible parent. He let Harry sleep away till noon too, after making him down a concoction that worked as both brandy and dreamless sleep potion.

"I do not even want to know what he saw," said Amelia with a shudder. "He looked like people who have been kissed by a dementor." Padfoot whined at that.

"I knew what he had seen. He had shown me all that a week after I escaped. But those effects," he shuddered involuntarily, "he bore them for four years before..."

"But I thought that with the scar gone that link would have gone," reasoned Neville. "Is there some residue or something?"

"I know nothing about possessions, Mr. Longbottom." Sirius was unsure what to say.

"Firstly, **_Padfoot_** , I need a Marauder name. Secondly, you may have forgotten, but we know who healed him – Alexis Scott. Thirdly, get off your arse and find answers in the Black Family Library! Regulus knew what it was!"

"He told you?"

"Could you and Prongs hide things from each other?"

"No," conceded Sirius. "We couldn't, unless we were playing a prank on each other."

Hermione was watching the exchange and chewing her lip. She had come upon something very important. "Padfoot, Neville, you remember that memory he showed when Arthur Weasley was attacked? Dumbledore asked him a very poignant question. What was his point of view? Where was he when he saw the whole thing happening? In his memories, he was always Voldemort or the snake. What if the link has given him a source of intelligence, but he now sees everything from a third person perspective? We know that the scar is no longer a...a You-Know-What."

Hermione had five people staring at her. Four of them were looking at her with the dawning realisation regarding why she was the Smartest Witch of her generation and why she always said that the magicals had not announce of logic. The fifth was staring at her in confusion, having not brought up on the matter and not being included in the plan to do so at all.

"What?" Hermione was more than a little affronted.

"Are you sure you aren't Lily incarnate?"

"You do know you are disgustingly crude don't you?" Hermione asked with a pale face and grumbled under her breath. Both Sirius and Neville caught that, but did not react beyond a smirk. "No, I am not. I sure hope I am not. I don't remember having given birth to Harry." Hermione had the last laugh as Sirius mock-retched.

"No, but seriously, that is an obvious point of investigation that we all missed. Just like Lily, you went with logical questions from what you knew, though I am not happy that Harry decided to tell you and Neville," Amelia stated.

"Why?"

"You are just children! We are adults! We are supposed to deal with these things!"

"Let me ask you three questions, Director. One: How well did the adults handle things the last time Voldemort was around? Two: How have adults helped Harry and how many have failed him that he may feel comfortable enough to trust 'adults'? And three: From what I have heard about Mr. Black, I don't think he considers him as an adult. Do you?"

"Hermione!" chastised Susan, scandalised that she had spoken that way to a Lord.

"No, Susan. She is right. I have seen how he behaves. On a subconscious level he is trying to channel James for me. While we were never exactly normal as far as fathers and sons went, even I can feel the way he behaves is not rudely irreverent, but different. Though I suppose given the circumstances, it is correct." Sirius' musing only gave words to something he had observed.

"I think that this discussion is best postponed for later," Moony interrupted. "We have to get him along, and now. Wake him, Sirius. I will go cook us something."

* * *

Half an hour later, Harry was sitting with the rest (barring Susan; she had been sent off to oversee the packing at the Ossuary before the two ladies came over to live at Marauders' Place temporarily, even though Winky was proficient enough to do so by herself. She had thrown a tantrum as she recognised the ploy for what it was and resented being treated like a kid;), the pensieve ready for action. Hermione started the interrogation with the question, "Did your scar ache?"

"No," replied Harry after a moment to gather himself having been thrown off by the question. "It didn't. I just felt a small itch at the back of my mind. It wasn't like the assault by Voldemort before, nor was it like Legillimency. I closed my eyes to – I don't know, follow that itch? – and I could see Avery performing a ritual to force Voldemort's wraith into a mundane farmer."

"Where were you?"

"I was here..."

"No, you great prat!" scolded Hermione. "What was your point of view?"

"I was standing to a side. I watched as Avery, Gibbon and that man sat in the ritual circle. There was no Nagini."

"Were you looking from what would be your normal eye-level?"

Harry frowned, and then answered. "Yes."

"You were not in any pain at all when you saw that happening? You were not in any way _forced_ to see the ritual?"

"No and no. What are you getting at?"

"Well these questions have just proved that your scar is no longer a You-Know-What..."

"I thought we knew that since I no longer have a scar?"

"I am getting to that, git. Now, if we can prove that the vision you had is true, then you have a controllable link to Voldemort which he will never know!"

Harry ogled at her for a few second. Just like the previous time's fifth year, Hermione had come through for him again. Just as she had done then, she had brought him out of his "If I'm not a Horcrux then how?" funk. "Damn! You, woman, are a genius!"

"No. I am not fully a witch. Ergo, I have not lost my logical faculties which were needed in the mundane world. You seemed to have become an **_'Adult Wizard'_** , but I will give you the benefit of doubt because you were scared." Harry winced at the Adult Wizard jibe, something they had come up with over the summer for people who were entirely too much reliant on magical explanations, and so stopped using their brains.

"Sorry!" he murmured sheepishly.

Sirius then manhandled Hermione into a hug. "You are just like Lily-flower! Just like her with James, you instantly brought down our boy from the high horse and set him straight! Get your thumb out of your..."

"Sirius!" warned Amelia.

Suitably cowed, Sirius continued, "...mouth and ask her out, or someone wiser will!"

"I will take that under advisement, Lord Black. Thank you for your permission to initiate courtship with Miss Granger, a daughter of your House." That had everyone else in splits as Sirius realised what he had done, and he and Hermione turned tomato red.

"Smart-aleck, aren't you, Pup?"

"I will have to be smart enough to deserve her and attempt to woo her, won't I Padfoot?" Hermione was blushing again like an English tea-rose at that. The boy was well on the way to successfully wooing her, she decided.

"Smooth, Potter, real smooth," Sirius commended. "James could only manage that when he got to Christmas of 1976."

"Thank you," Harry replied preening. "But I am not trying to woo you. Sorry mate, Amelia would kill me. And I don't swim to that shore anyway." In the resulting laughs that the comment generated, everybody missed the glances Sirius, Amelia and Hermione exchanged.

"I am right here you know!" the two ladies scolded in unison. "And I sincerely feel we should actually have the discussion we had scheduled for the 31st."

"Sorry, Aunt Amy," Harry said innocently. Then suddenly in a voice clearly meaning business, he described the actions he would be taking. "Director, in this pensieve, are the memories, of what did happen in another timeline from the fourth year onwards. You will find that a lot has been changed, primarily because of The Purge that **_you_** initiated. Shall we adjourn any discussion to after such time? You and Remus alone are the people who need to be told things in totality."

As the two dived in, Sirius asked Harry, "How much have you put in?"

"Enough to let her know who the chief perpetrators left are, and enough for him to realise that Albus Dumbledore should not be given the reins of one's life, irrespective of whether or not it was the real Albus Dumbledore that you ever dealt with. I am through giving anyone second chances, and that included Moony. I don't think he's become so foolish as to let things overwhelm him, but he'll have to choose. It'll be either Albus or the Marauders' Pack; not both – an Ex-OR Gate, if you would care for that description."

"Then what was it in the ward yesterday?" asked Sirius.

"Do you really think I'd care if he was forgiven or not?" Harry asked with a smile. "He might be useful yet. He won't find forgiveness from me, yet, but that is because I am unsure what or who the real Dumbledore is. His usefulness and behaviour will decide whether he shall last much farther than Voldemort."

"Do you realise that you are speaking like Voldemort, Harry?"

Harry shrugged at Sirius' question. "Albus Dumbledore will never remain on my conscience. He and Voldemort, together thus far, wittingly or unwittingly, played the part of Doctor Frankenstein. I refuse to be their monster. I am in control now, not Voldemort and not Dumbledore. The magical sheeple can only function on fear. I will give them something to really fear, and they shall not fear me. Fear can be milked with any subject. They shall have their arses on fire with their fear for Voldemort. You do not need to have power to wield it. As of now, Dumbledore...Dumbledore will now be my pawn, my monster. He will be forced to do my bidding, to be my minion, but as gently as possible." As Harry spoke, he was unconsciously letting out flares of power which caused the three others to flinch and shiver in fright. "He tried to remove my humanity, systematically facilitating the deaths of everyone close to me. He is still my enemy, until he proves to be otherwise. As of now, he is just the lesser of two. I won't actively seek his destruction, unless it facilitates Voldemort's death in anyway. Even then, given the esteem he holds in our society, it won't be people's adulation of him that I will destroy. I will not be seen much, unless I feel that such a course of action will be prudent. Instead, it will be Dumbledore vs. Voldemort. Let them slug it out."

Nobody spoke anymore as they sat in stifling, uncomfortable silence. Sirius was really scared of and for his godson. This was a person who could and would overtake Voldemort in raw power, but chose to succeed without resorting to it. Harry, Sirius decided, would have been a far more successful and ambitious dark lord than Voldemort, in that, he was a frightful combination of Dumbledore and Voldemort. He had time and brains to develop the knowledge, skill, political power and reputation of the former, and the ruthlessness, disregard for life and rules, tenacity, and ability to gather minions if he wished to, of the later. Yes. Dumbledore had created the Monster.

"Will we be discarded too?" Hermione asked in a small voice.

"You keep forgetting that I am here to protect those that I care for, those that I consider family. I am not Voldemort, 'Mione. He doesn't care for anyone. He has no friends, just servants and minions. He tortures them just as willingly as he tortures his enemies. I have said this before and I will say so again. I will be a paragon of light, as grey as the shadows or darker than darkness itself, if I need to be, to achieve my aims. Dumbledore falls in neither of the two categories I spoke of. You are. Neville is. Sirius is. Moony is. Maybe not yet, but Amelia and Susan will be, too. You are not thinking of all this from my point of view. If I had gone back to that time, you might have married Ron, but you would have been an 'uppity mudblood bint'. People like Lucius would have still bought their way out. Dead people can't bribe anyone. And they need to be dead. They did sell their soul to the devil, after all. But there can be others of similar beliefs and ideals who can try to replace them. I want to protect you all and that means that I have to be at the top of the food chain. People like Dumbledore are those who will try to get a lion to turn into a herbivore. They should be put in place early on."

"You have changed," she said in reply. "You are very cynical."

"A matter of circumstances," Harry brushed of her concerns. "Once Voldemort is dead, if I never see magic again, it will be too soon."

"You mean..."

"Take whatever meaning you want of my words."

Hermione was again scared just as much as the day after she had been revived. Harry was no longer a person she could claim to completely know, in spite of knowing his biggest secret.

"Just call me in when they are done, will you? Send a Patronus. I am going to run around as Pup." Harry asked, breaking into their thoughts. He got an answer of absent-minded nods. Harry used the Elder Wand and became totally undetectable through various silencing charms and the sort. Then he quietly went to Knockturn Alley, apparating for the first time in the timeline. Setting up several points, he set the Alley on fire. Not just any fire, of course – he had to use Fiendfyre. He had spent some time learning the shields required for the job and apart from the Wand Shop and other benign places, ensured that the whole Alley was burnt. Borgin and Burke, the Sleeping Serpent, and many other shady places were destroyed altogether. He returned to Marauders' place within ten minutes and started running around as Pup. Eventually, the canine nature took over as he started digging in the yard and chasing butterflies. It took the edge off the destruction he had caused. The job was heinous yet necessary. And by doing what he had claimed he was doing, everyone had plausible deniability. Suddenly Amelia went rushing by.

"Woof?" He looked at Sirius questioningly.

"Not now, pup, someone burnt down Knockturn Alley." Harry could have smacked his forehead at his idiocy. Of course Amelia would have to go. He quickly transformed and asked, "You going?"

"No. I will be a liability right now," he said bitterly. "People are still after me, either because they don't believe my innocence in spite of seeing the Rat, or because they are DEs or sympathisers."

* * *

Amelia was getting a foot rub from Sirius that evening after a tiring day at work. "This is madness!" she growled. "Every shop that was burnt had been evidence of wrongdoing in and of itself. Now everyone that we suspected is out of work. The only dead bodies are those of hags and banshees and the like. They were just where we wanted them. We had the enemy where we could see them! Must have been Voldemort's people making a move! Can you believe it? They took out the very people they got help from!" she ranted. Then looking at Remus, she sighed noisily and said, "At least Fenrir Greyback is dead."

"WHAT?" the amazed three Marauders asked.

"Yes. He was caught in the fire, but he wasn't burnt. He was asphyxiated. We have his body in the holding cell of the DoM. They are trying to research lycanthropy. With Voldemort coming around again, people need vaccinations or cures. They don't exist yet..."

"Sirius, may I put in a million galleons from the Potter vaults into JLPIRL and ask them to work with the DoM?"

"Why are you asking me?"

"You are my **_father_** , Sirius. You are responsible for my financial decisions till I come of age," Harry replied, almost as if explaining to a small child.

"Oh." Remus and Harry snorted. He had an expression of comprehension. "Let's put in two million, one each from the Black and Potter Vaults." Sirius turned to Amelia. "Will you please, please set up a meeting for me with those Unspeakables?"

"They would want to kiss your feet for this donation, so yes."

"Will my paws do?"

"Sirius?"

"Hmm?"

"Shut up."

"You are no fun, Amy."

"Good; because we now have to talk about everything that Harry showed us."

"Thank you. I thought your excessive lovey-dovey things wouldn't end..."

"Silence yourself brat," Sirius mock-scolded.

"Well what do you want to ask or say, Aunty Amy?"

"Well for one, none of those things are happening."

"I know. You have nearly three quarter of the total number of DEs left kissed, jailed or dead. So of course it isn't happening."

"But that doesn't mean that things are all hunky-dory. There is still a lot to take care of," retorted Amelia.

"True. Now that we have proper recognition of Voldemort being 'banished' and not dead, it would have been prudent to get Dumbledore in were he not either such a royal ar-"

"Language!"

"-arrogant senile old coot, or a controlled puppet. I need his help in learning something that is being forgotten."

"Why?"

"I did not decide to take my History OWL early just for fun. I want to study the Dark Arts. I want to study Druidic Magic and Rituals, and all sorts of old magics also."

"WHAT?"

"Yes. When – and if – I start, I will give a magical Vow, an Unbreakable one too, if you want, that I will not use Dark Arts except for bringing down Voldemort. Know thy enemy. It will be morally repugnant, yes, but it won't be the same as Voldemort studying the Dark Arts."

Remus butted in here. "Whatever you all want to say will be after this memory." He showed them the memory of what Harry had said in the infirmary after taking Snape out of the equation.

"Harry?" Amelia's voice held fear.

"Yes I said it. And I am not ashamed of that. He is the reason that Neville and I don't have our parents. He is the reason for that just as much as Dumbledore and Voldemort are. Probably much more than Dumbledore was."

"And I for one completely agree," Neville said. "He was a DE, fair and simple. Revenge feels good in some cases."

"Thank you, brother. The other reason was more in the future. I want your promise that what I say remains confidential. Sirius, Hermione and Neville already know." He received nods. "Severus Snape aided and abetted the severe abuse of girls left in Hogwarts at the hands and other...organs of the DE spawn. I have to report that Susan was one of the victims."

Amelia's eyes darkened in fury. Anyone hurting Susan, her daughter in all but name, was going to have the seven fires of hell and still find no respite. It was only Sirius putting an arm around her, and whispering, "He could not do that to our Susan, and Harry has ensured that he would never be able to. Calm down, for now," that calmed her – temporarily.

"I had to take action. Frankly I do not know how many girls he has abused since he was employed. And this may be a coward's way out, but I really don't want to know, unless they can be helped. All that matters is that he is dead. And there was nothing left to bury."

"I agree," said Sirius. "He knew that Peter was an animagus, that he was the traitor. Either through Dumbledore, or by omission of truth, he put both my son and me through tremendous pain. He then visited the most heinous crimes on innocent students while apparently acting. Severus should have been tortured to death."

"And this is exactly why I fear for him, Sirius!" Remus shouted in rebuttal, out of the blue. "I agree that he should have been punished. But I do not agree with the way he was punished. Both of you have cruelty in you that should and will scare people away!"

"Well, shut up then, Moony! I killed him legally! Why are you playing the Devil's Advocate? I have known no mercy! I shan't show any either! At least unlike every adult bar Sirius, I first bother to find out the truth! For that Harry and for me, till now, it was only punishment for whatever went wrong, whether or not it was my fault! And I paid for all that with the lives of those I cared for! It won't happen again!" AS he spoke, his teeth were bared in a feral grimace.

Remus' face paled at that. "It's not that, Prongslet..."

"I know what it is, Remus," Harry replied viciously. "You are a misplaced and misguided pacifist clinging to meaningless morals. I want to live a happy, uneventful yet successful life without shits wanting to control/kill/use me getting in! I don't think it is too much to ask! Stop being a fool! I know that you are beating down the beast! Don't do it! Your lupine-conscious screams for revenge, just as much as mine does!" Then looking around and turning back to Remus with a sly look, he asked, "Or is it that I took away your chance at revenge, Moony?"

Remus flushed red. "I-I..." he started with a stammer, before humbly nodding in defeat.

Harry smirked. "Sometimes, the self-righteous hypocrisy of you Dumbledore sycophants astounds me. My parents must have been of the same class, seeing that they adhered to Dumbledore's insistence that they stay at the cottage in Godric's Hollow instead of the Manor which is under blood Fidelius. I hope they weren't. One should never have much to regret. It is silver lining, probably, that I did not grow up putting anyone on the pedestal. The pedestals always come crashing down."

" ** _You_** astound **_me_** , cub. James would have been..."

"...happy that I became an astute survivalist, not just selfishly but also for those I care about. He'd be proud that I can think for myself," Harry snarled.

"I thought I knew you, cub," Remus said mulishly.

"Oh?" countered Harry with a studiously blank face. Sirius winced. Moony had made a monumentally bad mistake. "How would you claim so, Mr. Lupin?" Remus looked at him in bewilderment, even as Hermione winced with Sirius this time. This was going to go bad. Harry had gotten into sarcastic and formal insults. That was never a good thing. "Never really saw you through my so-called childhood. I only knew of you through memories that are not mine. You couldn't truly claim to know me, Mr. Lupin. Weren't you, after all, being Dumbledore's good little pet canine?"

"I owe Dumbledore, Harry," Remus replied unaware that he was treading unfortunate territory.

"You owe him for rearing you to be a spy?" Harry sneered back.

"It was the need of the time!"

"So you like being used by Dumbledore, Mr. Lupin? Sirius and I never needed you to help us, did we? We were disposed off like garbage, useful only when Dumbledore deemed us to be?"

"SHUT UP!" roared Remus.

"The truth hurts doesn't it?"

"THAT IS ENOUGH BOTH OF YOU!" Sirius scolded. "Harry has the right of it, Remus. We allowed a kept man to lead us astray. And I would rather trust my son than a century old senile man and his principles that you are still echoing."

As tempers calmed, Harry pled. "Don't do this Moony. The only people I trust enough apart from Luna are right here in this room. I don't want to lose that. I don't want to lose any of you. I don't want to have to bury any of you..." He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "I didn't even have that after Bellatrix pushed Sirius through the Veil last time around. Please. We are pack, Moony. I am sorry that I shouted, but I am not sorry for what I said."

"Damn, he hits low," Remus grumbled. "I am sorry too. I just can't understand why you feel no guilt or remorse about killing the two you have actually killed."

Harry got up and roared in frustration and punched a wall hard, causing a picture hung there to fall and shatter. He also broke two of his fingers in the process and howled in pain. Sirius gave him an odd look before mending them. "Moony, you have forced my hand into revealing something I never wanted to. When I got rid of the scar thing, I retained not only that Harry's memories..."

Hermione connected the dots quickly and paled at the implications. "You do not mean?" Harry nodded in reply.

"May I say that this is seriously creepy how you did not even have to complete what you were saying for her to understand?" muttered Amelia.

"What are you on about, Prongslet?" Sirius asked.

"I retained not only that Harry's memories, but also several – not all – of the memories of Voldemort. Did you know that Voldemort, over time, ceased to be a biological construct? Now Voldemort is not one man – or spirit. Every DE is an active Horcrux because the mark is one. And since they willingly took the mark, it is **_active_** possession. **_We have several Voldemorts running around, basically, because it was only_** ** _one_** ** _of his several bodies that died!_** " The colour faded from Remus' face. The others had known of this before anyway, but not to the level Harry had described.

Harry was getting worked up, and chugged on like a locomotive engine, often huffing in anger. "What you lot do not know is the feelings Voldemort had every time a Death Eater became a part of the legion. It was dirty. I felt violated in a way that a thousand hot showers would not wash off. I was forced to experience the extreme ecstasy he felt when he killed mum and dad before her. I was forced to experience his mirth at the thought of Snape being given my mum for his own and my dad's dead body to torture and mutilate – those were his last thoughts before he turned his wand at mum. Before that it was the insane, destructive happiness, the extremely dirty bout of planning as he thought of what he would do to Uncle Frank and Aunt Alice. Did you know that he wanted to rear Neville as his son after killing his parents and grandmother?" The last part came out as a harsh whisper. Neville turned ghostly pale at that. The very idea was unimaginable and revolting, to understate matters.

"Those few bits of his – the inanimate ones that I know of, they were only the latter ones he created. He felt the heights of physical rapture and ecstasy due to the pain that splitting his soul caused. Why do you think that I asked for the Dark Mark to be studied? I experienced that Harry's memories, and he had been put under each of the three Unforgivables. I can testify that the pain was worse than a hundred of Riddle's most powerful Cruciatus Curses!" This was completely new and unexpected.

"Do you know how it feels to be forced to watch as plans are made for killing Dumbledore and the Ministry in one swoop? I do. Have you been forced to relive the insane plans of a mad man who wanted to regularise muggle hunting seasons, slave trade of muggleborn and other such heinous crimes? I do. Do you even know how it feels to be forced to relieve a person being violated, brutalised, tortured and murdered from the perspective of the one who did those things? I do. Do you know how it feels to be forced to look into the eyes of little children after murdering their entire family in the most brutal way possible? Do you know how it feels to kill the said child with a manic grin that is not yours? I do." Remus now looked distinctly green around the gills.

"It made me want to not come back. At least I'd be happier with my parents in a place where problems do not exist! Do you know why I came back here? Voldemort had to tie his soul to the mortal plane by killing people. But it was the memories of that Harry about all of you and a few that are not in this room that tied me down here. It was you lot and the fact that **_my_** soul remains untainted that has kept me going. Look at me, meet my eyes and tell me I am dark, Moony. Tell me that I am a murderer," Harry challenged.

None of them could fathom the actual effect that those memories might have had on Harry, given the fact that Harry had hidden that away so successfully till then. Harry had not told this to anyone, not even Sirius. Now each and every action of his, his seemingly increasing darkness, his seemingly growing drive of bloodlust; everything was explained. How he had kept all of this information inside for this long was really a marvel. "The only regret that I have is that I fought off and broke away from those visions before I could view the creation of every single one of his bits and pieces. I am not that strong..." was all he could say, before Sirius and Amelia, each shooting Remus a filthy look, gathered Harry in a very parental hug from either side. It was gruesome, heinous and any and every other strong word for 'dirty'. Hermione had a very apologetic look on her face, as she finally understood the scope of the trauma the event had inflicted on Harry.

Susan came in around, just a little while later. The stunned, angry and thick atmosphere made her ask the obvious question. "What happened here? Who died?"

"Hags, Banshees, and Fenrir Greyback," Neville replied drolly, lightening up the mood a teeny bit.

"I think," started Sirius at long last, "we need to plan ahead."

"Of course," replied Amelia. "What should be done now?" asked Amelia, wanting more than anything suggestions from the one whose memories had started everything.

"Issue a worldwide warrant for any DEs, if you haven't yet. Your escaped DEs, Avery and Gibbon have travelled to Albania. That's where Riddle's wraith is. Dumbledore said so some ** _time._** Apprehend, interrogate, verify and kill Igor Karkaroff and Dolohov. If I know right, they were Voldemort's chief foreign operations recruiters. I don't think you've much influence over the Old Prussian and USSR magical world. They are going to be Voldemort's sources unless they are stopped, and he will recruit them young from Durmstrang, even if Igor is a traitor. They teach the Dark Arts in Durmstrang. Destroy any base Voldemort will ever have. He should be alone, with nothing and no followers and minions to return to."

"That is true," agreed Amelia, making notes as Harry spoke.

"I started studying the battle tactics used by the Aurors. Stun, stun, stun again. It is useless. Barring Mad-Eye and those that he trained, hardly anyone used the surroundings. The Death Eaters are rabid animals that need to be put down. Use destructive spells. When you got the Basilisk money did you do what I told you to during the reading?"

"Yes, within that very week. We also have issued all senior Aurors the Basilisk hide armour. They are happy. The money generated has allowed a stock of decent dragonhide armour for reserve and inventory also."

"Are you in need of funds?"

"Not as of now. Gringotts took care of the Government Bonds you spoke of."

"Have you changed their training? People like Dawlish are poor team workers."

"He fell afoul of the oath. But yes. I roped in Mad-Eye as the chief of the training facility."

"I have a suggestion, if you'd care," interrupted Hermione. "Search the squibs and newbloods. Find among them Martial Arts trainers. Taekwondo, Judo, Karate, any of that will help and will be necessary. Make it compulsory for all Aurors and cadets in training to at least achieve the certified level of Senior Practitioner in the Mind Arts – both Legillimency and Occlumency. Also get mundane weaponry training. Her Majesty's army has a unit called the SAS. If you are going to ask for help, ask for the Special Air Services. Mind you, they call it ' **S** ports **A** nd **S** ocial'. It will be a powerful ace up your sleeve..."

"...Because the DEs look down upon anything mundane. Capital!"

"Last time, the DEs knew where the newbloods lived. Put the list of addresses where they live and their families work under a Fidelius Charm and obliterate all other records. Put up surveillance spells on all public places. Stalk known DE sympathisers as they will be the ones Voldemort will replace his force with. Create assassination teams. Recognise volunteer groups like the OotP. I know for a fact that Crouch and Bagnold hounded these people, because Harry told me about them," added Neville after a bit of thinking. Amelia nodded appreciatively. Neville had more to add. "He also used Inferi, so that meant that he had access to cemeteries. Get a person to be the Universal Registrar and Secret-Keeper for all family plots, and hide his job identity under another Fidelius. That cuts off another large task and scare force from him."

"Excellent!" cried Remus. "That leaves nothing for him to scare, except for the so-called Dark Creatures. I like it."

"And that is where," continued Neville, "Riddle nearly won the war last time. He gives respect of some sort to the Dark Creatures. The Ministry only restricts them. Now, it is obvious that Greyback's pack can't be set free, nor can you have feeding days for Vampires. But no effort to find alternative solutions has been undertaken. For example, you could take a little blood, and a blood replenishing potion and the Vampires won't have to bite and kill."

"That is...different," conceded Amelia. "None of us really thought of that. Where did you get the idea?"

"Mundane doctors order blood tests to diagnose and help deal with diseases," replied Neville. "They often take five ml or more of blood, which is in our terms half a vial."

"We do ignore them to our own detriment," Amelia grumbled. "Anything else? Any person to deal with?"

"Arrest, dose up and extract the truth, and publicly destroy Horace Slughorn, and every single one of his DE and Voldemort sympathiser contacts," answered Harry. "He was the one who gave Tom Riddle much of the information regarding the bits and pieces. Make it so that not even slugs would think of him as worthy enough to excrete on."

"Slug did it?"

"Yes. And it was complete with the "Tom, my boy", "How do you know all that information?", and all that stupid tripe of his. Slimy bastard, he is worse than the old whiskered coot! To him, he was preserving a future contact. In reality, he helped wreak havoc on the world. He is an accomplice!

"Next, Voldemort made his name Taboo, last time around. Make The Unforgivables, the Morsmordre spell for the Dark Mark and any other spells that you know they routinely used Taboo. Make **_all_** love potions and any sort of mind-controlling and altering potions illegal to brew, to buy, to store and to know how to brew. They are Imperius curses in a bottle and they led to us having Voldemort sicced on us. Ban the book 'Twelve Failsafe Ways to Woo Your Witch' and any others that are similar. Death Eaters could easily use them to get sensitive information from gullible witches. The only reason I don't talk about female DEs doing so is because Alecto Carrow and Bellatrix are simply not the sort that people will willingly fall into a honey trap with, and they are the only female DEs I know of. That's all I can come up with offhand. Honey traps are pretty common in the mundane world. One never knows what those DE scum will come up with."

"How and why **_do_** you lot know all these things?" Susan asked. There was a lot of uneasy shifting at that question. Harry gave an answer which though unrelated was not untrue.

"I learnt to observe and search efficiently. It makes gathering information a whole lot easier. I also had Dorea Black for a grandmother. She has written a treatise in a diary about information collection."

"For whatever time I have known you better than just a classmate, you have always been more insidious than just plain courageous," retorted Susan dryly. "Who did you bribe to get placed into Gryffindor?"

"I begged Rudolph. He put me into Gryffindor," Harry replied with a shrug. "He wanted me in Slytherin where he said I would "achieve greatness." While I will accept, I would have liked it because Daphne was cute," he paused briefly at Susan's unholy gleeful expression, "but Malfoy was there too. So, that meant no Slytherin. And Hermione was sorted into Gryffindor, so that clinched the deal for me." Susan could only shake her head at that. There were several ways to shatter people's long held beliefs and world views – bulldozing them worked just as any other. Sirius was looking at Harry with obvious pride – his mind was practically screaming "James' Son!" Tomato-Hermione also made reappearance; first in anger and then...

The truth was that by giving Susan ammunition for benign blackmail and teasing, Harry was driving her thoughts away from the graver matters and the more difficult to explain parts. The sunny disposition of the Hufflepuff was easy to... _manage._

"And I missed this before, but will you give me license to breed a basilisk?" Harry asked Amelia out of the blue. "They never mate, and they obviously don't procreate. I will ensure that all the skin that it sheds goes to the Aurors."

"Pup, sometimes you push the boundaries of insanity. You know that don't you?"

"But I only want to help. I am fully happy to adhere to all DMLE, DoM, and DCMC regulations. This way it won't be illegal. I am the only known Parselmouth working against Voldemort. This way any trade in such special potion ingredients and all such things will be Ministry Regulated."

"This ranks right up there with Prongs' idea of asking Lily to have a Doe Animagus form to see if they could give birth to a fawn animagus..."

"That is disgusting, Sirius!" all the others roared in revulsion.

"No but seriously, even though what you say is true, it is insane. Basilisks need about fifty years to have mature spell resistant hide. The initial leather will just be pretty and nothing else. There was a Black who bred one once. The fool forgot that he also owned a chicken coop. He was also crushed under the beast."

"That is a real comedy of terrors!" snorted Remus.

"But that is wonderful, Sirius!" Harry started with real exuberance. "Leather is tremendously popular for clothes in the muggle world. Of course they don't have snakeskin, so it will be novel, it can be enchanted to prevent magicals using it, and it will work out to be very expensive. That money can be turned into galleons."

"Is it so?"

"Sirius, I have lived in the same house with Dudley Dursley. The boy was collecting adults' magazines since he was nine. I can testify that he and his friends drooled over leather body suit clad women." He glanced at Hermione discreetly, remembering the beauty she would be, but not discreetly enough for her to miss it. His eyes took a glazed look as he said, "I have to admit that so did I." Now it was Sirius' turn to look at Amelia and have a similar glazed look. While Amelia could easily ignore or dismiss it with a growled "Down, Sirius!", Hermione 'she-is-like-my-sister' Granger could not. She gaped openly at the boy. It was very...mortifying and yet fortifying (for her self-image; she had a firm belief that her body was not perfect, just as almost all teenage girls do) for her to know that Harry thought of her _that_ way too. Not that she was complaining, but she knew that Harry was starting to be a hormonal teenage boy and would probably need to be slapped down.

"I hate your son, Sirius. I have been around him for longer than an hour only five times, nine – if you count the Wizengamot sessions – and each bloody time he gives me more to think, more to do, more decisions, and more work." Amelia glared at Harry, who gave her his best puppy-dog look. "And don't look at me like that! It did not work for James and it won't work for you!"

"Oh, alright; nothing ventured, nothing gained. I had to try, didn't I?"

"See? He even speaks like he is one of you lot!" she chastised, glaring at Sirius.

Ignoring the sniggers, Harry ploughed on to more serious matters, "The last matter is deciding the Minister after Fudge. I absolutely won't support you. You are a big enough target as it is."

"I understand. Now, Harry, when I tell you my choice, you have to know that anyone within the Ministry that I suggest is basically a good person.

"Okay?"

"I would choose one of Amos Diggory, Rufus Scrimgeour and Pius Thicknesse..."

"WHAT?"

"Yes. All three are fair men. They are not bigoted fools. I know why you are surprised by the latter two, but I know each of them very well. As war-time Ministers, especially, Rufus and Pius will do the job best."

"But...?"

"I know. Your view of the Ministry is jaundiced and rightfully so, I may add. But I will send both of you profiles of all three as is my job if they are nominated for the position. I know that they will do a good enough job if they aren't thrust into a bad situation."

* * *

That evening, Harry was up in his room, gift-wrapping his Christmas gifts. For Neville, the son wanting his parents, it was a series of books on medical science, which explained everything bottom-up, right up to the very basics of neurology. For Neville the friend/brother, it was greenhouse which worked similar to Wizarding-tents – bigger on the inside than on the outside. Well it would be delivered; it was too large for one person to handle. This tent had specific climate and condition controls to actually make it suitable for almost any plant. There was also a box of assorted Zonko's products for Neville the Marauder.

For every Weasley, there was a shrunken Bicycle. It was a standard gift. It was also enough for them to know that he had thought of them. For him, that was enough. Fred and George, Marauders at heart, got the Zonko's gift too.

Sirius had a two part gift – tickets to the next three Arsenal games for all of them, and a special piece of mechanism that Sirius would have cried over like a baby. The real gift was something that he had kept secret all along. Moony got a new wardrobe of course. He, Amelia and Susan all got a 15-galleon gift certificate from Honeydukes and a rune shield that worked like the shield hats Fred and George had made once before, except that it was enhanced – it was made of steel. The gift certificate was the normal gift for everyone he did not know too well.

Luna's gift would have to wait till the 27th when she would be returning from Sweden from another Snorkack hunting trip. The Krup had to be given to her in person. Granny Min got an impromptu handbook that Harry and Neville had put together regarding their animagus transformation technique. She was still going to spend the time in the castle till Christmas eve and after Boxing Day, because Dumbledore was in St. Mungo's. Gran Longbottom was gifted a complete ensemble of clothing that closely resembled the ones worn by the Queen in semi-formal settings, again.

It was Hermione, though that was the most difficult to give a gift to. There was nothing that wouldn't either be too commonplace or too forward. But Harry knew he had to express things, and fast. He had let Ron be cruel to her, objectify her, and destroy her little by little. He would accept the worst, if Hermione did not like him back, but he would let her take the decision. She would've got a memory, the one where she had almost said something and then she did not. Along with it was a note that read, "Are you going to complete that?" She also would have got a small box under a Fidelius charm with a very special, personal gift inside. It had an activation code – if she said yes, the note would tell her the secret. There was also the case for giving her the Vanishing Cabinet he had...secured...earlier that day, with its mate having already been repaired by Sirius.

She, instead, got one suit of full-body armour made of basilisk hide instead. Being Lord Slytherin meant you learnt to keep something secret and in reserve.

As much as he wanted to let Hermione know how much he felt about her, to let her know that she was his soul-mate (whatever it meant. He was not sure whether or not Cassiopeia was taking his mickey – it just seemed too contrived, now that he thought of it though he was also not under the illusion that Ginny wouldn't potion him – he had heard her outburst the day he had captured Pettigrew), he was not going to force the matter and drive her away. It had to be her decision. She was too important to lose. He had actually gone forth with his plan to tear apart magical Britain just so that she would never turn away, so she never would have to hide. Her absence from his life was inconceivable, unbearable and unthinkable. Whatever of her that he could have, as a friend or more, he would have. He knew that even though he had got most of his family back, she was the most important person for him.

A truly, cruelly devious idea struck him. It'd very well be the solution of his Weasley problem. He then travelled by apparition to the Burrow, right into Ginny's room. He wanted her scared of him, and it did not matter what it did to her mental state. It was morally repugnant. But he hated anyone who wished to control him just as much as he hated Voldemort. Everyone who'd dared to hurt his Hermione would pay. Timelines would not matter. He put up the strongest privacy wards and silencing charms. And then, he transformed into Tom Riddle Jr. He had to ensure that he was not projecting a three dimensional image, if the memory was ever viewed. He didn't want to be oath bound. This was also not violating his oath to be like her brother. He was cutting things very close, but he wouldn't have it any other way. A slight jolt woke the girl.

"Hello, Ginevra. Do you remember me?" The sibilant whisper brought out the greatest scream from Ginny ever. "Ah, so you do. Well, I just wanted to come and thank you, foolish girl. Do you know when Harry Potter almost died? He did not **_almost_** die. I killed him. Harry Potter is dead..."

"NOOOO!"

"Oh, yes. I killed him. And now I masquerade as Harry Potter..."

"No! You are lying!"

"Oh no, I am not. You see, I knew that he was a stronger person than you, a better man to possess. I told him lies, and he believed them. That was why I brought him down to the Chamber in the first place. He needed an incentive. You, his best friend's little sister were that. You helped me kill Harry Potter... and now I am back..."

"No! It can't be!" Ginny yelled, trying to get away from Harry.

"Why can it not be? Do you want me to tell you what you wrote? How you wished that famous Harry Potter would love you? How he should not have been friends with another girl? How you hated the mudblood (he cringed at having referred to Hermione like that) because she was close to Potter? How you wished to get rid of her, in the heart of your hearts? I live as Harry Potter now, Ginevra Weasley... He is mine to rule. Thank you, for getting me the best source of power, as I shall rule once more. This is my Christmas gift to you," 'Tom' whispered.

Ginny screamed and screamed and bawled and cried. She never saw the flash of the Elder wand, as the pseudo Dark Lord, the Avenger through time cursed (undetectably, of course) her to have such dreams and visions again and again, till she stopped wanting to be in contact with him or wanting to meddle with his life, nor the one that made it so that she would not be able to speak about her visions till they came face to face again. Harry discreetly dropped all the wards and apparated away as Ginny went on screaming. That would teach the foolish girl to think about hurting his Hermione.

"Magic is wonderful," Harry whispered to himself as he apparated away. Harry did not realise it, but in that moment of darkness, he had still unwittingly helped Ginevra.


	39. Chapter 39

**Eventful Christmas – III (22/23/24)**

It was four thirty, the crack ('butt-crack' as Sirius would have called it) of dawn on the morning of the Winter Solstice, when a shadowy blonde-haired figure alighted from a magical contraption, right in front of a garden. For the mundane people, who were purposely kept away from the magic, the door was closed. For the figure, this was a place that was very important in the quest to help a dearly loved person away from the dark path.

Luna was on a mission. She'd had a flash while on the hunt for the elusive Snorkack in Sweden that Harry was behaving very rashly, mostly in revenge, and partly out of distrust. Of the three chief actions he had taken, Luna could accept one and commend it. The other two were simply wrong. One of those was Harry's action, but it wasn't **_logical_** Harry's action. How did burning down Knockturn Alley help? All the Nargles carrying and trading the madthrushgongs and wrackspurts would be right where they could be seen and driven away by the Aurors. Now the Nargles, wrackspurts and madthrushgongs would spread dangerously. But his other action – that of cursing Ginny Weasley, enraged Luna. She was mostly proud of Harry, but that was not who her brother was. Harry was no Dark Lord, yet he had behaved as if he was the other boy-who-lived-in-his-scar and not him. She did not like that at all. And so it was that Luna Lovegood had turned up at that most ungodly hour at Marauders' Place to set Harry straight. It was a good thing that she was keyed into the wards. It was even better that she also had the key. She had been very surprised when he had given her the key, but now it was just as normal as getting into the Rookery.

She went up to Harry's room. He was no fool, and Luna knew that when one lived with Stubby Boardman aka Sirius Black, and Professor Lupin, it was only sane to put up protections to ensure one's continued sanity. She _was_ Luna, however, and she simply breezed into the room. She had to control a fit giggles when she saw Harry. He was obviously dreaming about Quidditch or Football, something that he had shown her a bit over the summer. It was a bit funny, but she liked the fact that she had so many things to look forward to, and that included mundane things, though both Sirius and Harry vehemently claimed that the game was magical. She shook her head to stay on track.

"HARRY! WAKE UP!" she whispered harshly.

"Alan Zmiz ish gonna shcore," was the mumbled reply.

Again, Luna had to control her giggle. "HARRY JAMES POTTER, YOU WAKE UP RIGHT THIS MOMENT!"

"Zoo miniz, Herminny..."

"WAKE UP YOU MORON! I MUST TALK TO YOU!" Luna scolded, finally reaching the end of her patience and shaking him awake.

Harry started and blinked owlishly, before recognising the presence of someone around him. He was befuddled by sleep, and added to that was the fact that whoever it was knew the place as he himself had told them. "Whozit? Whazzamazzer?" he croaked. He then saw the blonde hair and recognised who had woken him. "Luna," he muttered with a yawn.

"Yes. It's me. Now, you will go wake up properly, splash your face with cold water and then come here. We must talk."

Luna's serious tone stumped Harry, but he was wise enough to know that obedience was a good part of valour at the moment. He obediently splashed the ice-cold water on his face, completed a few of his morning ablutions and sat facing his sister.

"I sincerely hope Luna, you have a good enough reason to wake me at – what is the time? Ah, quarter to five – otherwise, I am going to be very irritated," he grumbled.

SLAP!

If Luna's orders did not wake him, her stinging, tight slap certainly did.

"What was that for?" cried Harry, rubbing his cheek.

"You know full well why I did that, Harry. Right now, you and I are going to have a talk, sister to brother."

"Ok?"

"You have thoroughly disappointed me through two of your actions, Harry. Over the past two days, I had some flashes. You were embroiled in three separate incidents. First it was Dumbledore, then the burning of the KA, and then cursing Ginevra. While I find no fault in the first, the latter two were totally uncharacteristic of you. I am angry and aghast that you could even think of that." Her contorted face, made Harry cringe at her fury, and almost smile at the fact that she was free enough with him to assert herself. Luna had only started into her rant. "The last one is the first we are going to deal with. What the bloody hell were you thinking you prat?"

"I just wanted her out of my hair and as far away from me as possible!"

Luna was unsure whether she wanted to slap Harry again, or pound either her or his head on the wall. Harry was being exceptionally obtuse. "Harry, we both know that you are from **_the_** future. At least, your memories are. And we both know that I know things and there is no reason why you should hide things from me. I know why you don't want to tell me. You are trying to wrap me up in protections so I am not caught again at Malfoy Manor. I also know that you have learnt to not trust the Weasleys."

It was then that Harry lost all semblance of sleep. "How did you know?" he asked in a whisper."

"What is the first rule of knowing me Harry?" Luna chided exasperatedly.

"Never ask how or why you know or do things," Harry mumbled in response.

"Good! Now as for Ginny, I know that you hate her for what she did to you and Hermione. You have started hating Ron on general principle, particularly because of his abandonment. That is not you Harry. Also, did you truly believe that the changes you effected would have no ripples? That they would have no repercussions?"

"What d'you mean?"

"Harry, when you gave the Weasleys money, as compensation and not charity, when you gave Ron suggestions, you changed things. This was not just giving away money. It was legitimate and equal. That means that the Weasleys now trust you fully. Even Ron trusts you a bit more than he might have before because he finds you helping him have some recognition. More importantly, the three oldest brothers, who will be carrying the mantle of the Weasley name, trust you. Even more importantly, because of your actions, and the way you strove to ensure Ginevra's safety, they are now loyal to you. I don't need to tell you about Fred and George. You have become important to them as a person, beyond being their liege lord."

"What should I do then?" Harry nearly yelled in frustration.

"Let me tell you a story. When my mummy died, we had two immediate neighbours – The Diggory and Weasley families. It was only Molly, Ron and Ginny who rushed to help me. I was in shock. Ron and Ginny helped me around till I broke down, finally. Have you ever heard "she must weep or she will die"? It wasn't the same context, but my state was catatonic. They helped me when nobody could. Molly mothered me, even though I hated her for it. Why did my mummy have to die? She still stuck at it and brought me back from the brink. So I respect them," she ended simply.

"I never knew," Harry whispered, wide-eyed.

"You weren't supposed to. Right now, this Ron and this Ginny have done nothing. True, they mightn't have the truest intentions when Ron befriended you, but that is no excuse. They did help you several times, did they not?"

"They did," Harry admitted.

"Right now, Ronald is at a nexus point. If he loses all confidence in himself, he will become the bitter, jealous person you knew. If he has something as his own, to call his own, he will be brought back from the brink. I can understand that you might never trust him. That is alright. Do not antagonise him. That is all I ask."

Harry did not like it. But for Luna, he would accept it. "If he still becomes bitter and jealous, I won't be responsible."

"If he still becomes bitter and jealous, nobody else but Ron will be responsible. He will have made his bed, and he will have to lie in it."

"That works for me," he conceded. "What about Ginny?"

"Yes. About her, I think, even though you have done something very wrong, it was in a way fortuitous."

"Why?"

"You weren't the only one left with a shard of the Diary-Boy, Harry..." Luna could see Harry's eyes widened at the implications.

"She is still partially possessed by Riddle's soul?"

"Yes."

"What do I do?"

"You will now go and lift the curses and compulsions completely. But her condition has to be detected; remember that."

Harry grabbed a T-shirt and a pair of jeans as he readied himself to apparate to The Burrow.

"Do you want me to come with you?"

"No. I made the mistake alone. I must correct it alone."

Harry apparated to the Burrow, right into Ginny's room. He silently stunned her. Now that he thought about it, his actions were just as dark as Dumbledore's. He removed all the spells he cast on her. But he would get Bill to show Ginny to Alexis Scott. Healer Scott could and would easily detect any visions and stuff. It was what Luna had said to do. Then with nary more a thought, he turned up back into his room and told Luna what he had done to correct things.

"Good! Now I am happy." She glomped him. "Now, why did you burn the KA?"

"I...don't know..."

"You do. Stop this denial Harry. You still have problems with what Bellatrix did to Hermione; seeing Dumbledore die, however much you distrust him; the Vanishing cabinet, do you not?"

"Yes."

"And did you not see that, as long as they could still be seen, the people in the KA, and the KA itself were lesser threats? That the black market was right where it could be controlled before things got out of hand?"

"Was it ever controlled?"

"Did Amelia have the power to do anything up to five months ago?"

"No. But as I see it, there was nobody innocent that has died. Even Greyback is dead."

"So?"

"So now there are fewer criminals. I am not sorry for that. And if you know that you were in Malfoy Manor, then you should know that I will kill everyone who ever did things to you Luna," he said fiercely.

Luna sighed. "I love you Harry, I really do. I am sure that my mum would have really wanted you to be my brother. But you can't go about killing anyone who hurt me in the future or even thought of it."

Harry was still frozen by her first sentence, something that Luna caught on to quickly. "Yes Harry. We all love you. Did you really think that we would allow just about anyone to make us their own?"

"N-no," stuttered Harry. "It is..."

"...just that I am the first you remember to have ever said that to you. I know. But that doesn't make it any less true. Sirius and Amelia do love you, though they don't say it. Professors Lupin and McGonagall do too, so do Nev and I. Hermione loves you differently, I am sure. Just because nobody said it doesn't mean they don't."

This time, Harry glomped Luna. "Thank you..." he whispered into her hair.

"It does fall within my remit as the little sister. I think you need to talk. You have been angry since Halloween."

"Kingsley Shacklebolt. He did not die the last time around. He was a Dumbledore loyalist, but still an Auror..."

"You have to understand that you can't save everyone, Harry."

"But what if I lose you all?" Luna felt the anguish that Harry held. How could she honestly tell him that everything would be alright? Luna was intimate with the idea of losses, just as much as Harry was. But Harry had not driven away people to protect them. He had used his Gryffindor courage to build his family again. She hadn't taken that risk. Indeed, how would she react to find that all of them had been taken from her? In that moment, she was the big girl, and Harry was a very little boy who was looking up to her and beseeching her to say that everything would be alright. She did not have the heart to lie to him, nor could she in any good conscience make him forcibly accept the fact that everything wouldn't always be alright, yet.

"You won't," Luna assured Harry, half-heartedly. "You need to find ways to destroy Tom Riddle very fast. If you can do that, you won't lose anyone." In her mind, this was safe. It would send him away from the actions he was thinking of. He was to be his proper age. He wasn't to be an assassin. She hadn't bargained for redirecting his mind to a new obsession.

"I won't?"

"You won't." Harry beamed at her and glomped her again. Luna couldn't help but sigh. Sometimes, the sudden changes around her made her feel discombobulated.

"There is one more thing Harry," Luna said after a long comfortable silence. She almost slapped her forehead with her palm in exasperation when Harry looked at her a bit fearfully. "No, I am not scolding you. This is about Dumbledore."

"Hmm?"

"You are right about him. He is useful, for the here and now. Do not succumb to people trying to reason with you over the matter."

"Thank you. At least you believe me."

"I always do, Harry. You have to understand that I may not always agree, but I will believe in you. Dumbledore is a person who is lost. He no longer knows what to expect, what to do, and what to think in any situation, because the times are changing, and he is not. So he believes that it is the same case for others. That is why, he falls back on experience to try and force his decisions down other peoples' throats. It is not a matter of trust. He is just old. His twilight years are not too kind to him. If you can prove Voldemort to be dead soon, Dumbledore will most likely retire. Give him that."

"Oh," answered Harry. Talking with Luna always gave fresh perspective. It exhilarated Harry. He was talking to someone who was family. He hugged her again, while entertaining a very intriguing idea. Cassiopeia did say that nobody could become a Phoenix animagus. Somehow, he had an inkling that Luna would be the exception to the rule.

Harry accompanied Luna to Sweden via the Knight Bus, the European mode of transport shortly after six. He wasn't going to let her go alone, even though she had come to England unaccompanied. She was told about her present, but it was going to live at Marauders' Place for the time being. Luna could hardly collect the Krup from Diagon Alley at dawn. The wake-up call she provided, however, ensured that Harry could not sleep thereafter. He felt infinitely better, though. He realised how much he had missed. If his parents had been alive, would he have had younger siblings like Luna? Who knew? But he could count his blessings that the family he had now, was as great as he could've ever hoped for. It was the best Christmas gift, in and of itself.

* * *

Sirius' induction into the Wizengamot was in true Marauder style. He took the oath, and then immediately declared Hermione a daughter of the House of Black. Then and there, Hermione would have become Lady Dagworth-Granger as Sirius was more than willing to appeal with Harry for the reinstatement of the House, but for the fact that she had decided that she would rather keep it in abeyance till her seventeenth birthday. As the House was an ancient House, but not nobility, she had no Heirs' ring. That said however, she was still to be addressed as Heiress Dagworth-Granger. Amelia also took the opportunity to declare their betrothal 'revived' by naming him Lord-Regent of the House of Bones by a consort betrothal contract. Any comments were cut-off by Harry's not too quiet, "Congratulations, father!"

In essence, he became a member of the dark faction who would stand for the light-grey.

The business of the session was concluded by noon. Several people made to talk to the Blacks. Harry shrank away by Augusta. He did not like crowds. Sirius however, was in his element. He spoke to people; talked briefly about his agenda without giving away much like Harry, charmed witches like Lady Bluewater, and talked in memoriam about James and Charlus. Amelia was particularly vexed by the overtures of the Bluewater woman who seemed intent on a similar contract as hers. Sirius realised that quickly enough and very politely and politically correctly, rebuffed Veronica.

But the real piece de resistance was the slew of attempts that Fudge made to talk to Sirius.

"My Lord Black," Fudge started, but Sirius initially ignored him. When Fudge repeated himself, Sirius glared at him with the patented Black Stare, the one that could make a priest confess his sins. Outside of a Black, the only person to ever manage to perfect the look was, ironically, a newblood, Lily Marie Evans-Potter.

"Yes, Minister?"

Fudge fidgeted about, something that greatly raised Harry's spirits. It was always amusing to be in control while Fudge... _fudged_ things. "I would like to welcome you back into our midst on behalf of the Ministry..."

"Oh?"

"Yes. It was very unfortunate that you had to spend twelve years in Azkaban..."

"Is it so?"

"Yes, My Lord."

"I see."

Fudge could not get another word from Sirius. Madam Marchbanks and Amelia chose that moment to come and meet Sirius. "I tested you for transfiguration NEWT, young man," Griselda croaked. She peered at Sirius and pointed at him with her walking stick. She then glared at Fudge, who shrank further into himself. "I also tested you, Cornelius. You got a D in your OWL did you not?" Fudge only became as green as his stupid bowler hat.

"Yes, Ma'am," Sirius bragged. "You gave me an O, and then scolded me for transfiguring your hat into a jackalope."

"Yes. I remember that. It is good to see you back. And you," she growled-croaked, rounding on Fudge. "You have been a poor excuse for a Minister. You have been sleeping and holidaying in Lucius' and Theodore's back-pockets and moneybags. I will get Sirius to stop you now." It became very difficult for them all to control their laughter. "If I could make a guess, Millicent must have put this man in prison on the orders of those Death Eaters, and you must have kept him there to continue to curry their favours."

"Those are serious allegations, Madam Marchbanks," Amelia said in all seriousness. "As the Director of the DMLE, I request you to bring forth all the evidence you have to support this. We need to expose any wrongdoing, irrespective of the station of the person in question!"

"Just because I have no proof of this arrogant boy's wrongdoings does not mean that I don't know he did that. I was a teacher for a long time, Amelia, so you can call it the Teacher's intuition. I have enough reason to put Cornelius into detention!"

Fudge was bristling. "Now see here, Madam Marchbanks, you cannot go and make such allegations about me! I am the Minister of Magic! Even you have to give me some respect, Elder of the Wizengamot or not!" He then made a monumental mistake. "Perhaps old age has rendered your reasoning and sight a bit untrustworthy?"

Griselda pinned Cornelius with a hard-steel chiselled stare. She held it long enough for Cornelius 'Corny' Fudge to start fidgeting again. Then she jabbed Cornelius with her walking stick in the considerable girth around his lower ribs and waist. "What are you saying, Cornelius Fudge?" All the onlookers started inching away from the two. It was like watching a very powerful metal solvent being spilt onto a train-wreck. One could not take one's eyes off the sight. Griselda now jabbed Cornelius with her stick in his stomach with each word. "I" – jab – "demand," – jab – "to" – jab – "know" – jab – "what" – jab – "you" – jab – "meant" – jab – "by" – "what" – jab – "you" – jab – "said!" Each not-at-all-gentle assault by the stick was also punctuated by Cornelius' howls of pain.

Nobody ever accused Fudge of being a clever man. Politically greedy? Yes. Financially greedy? Yes. Willing to undertake just about any course of action to fulfill his greed? Absolutely yes. But clever? No. He showed his lack of cleverness in spades with his next words. "Stop it, you batty old hag!"

Amelia, out of her sense of duty had to break the fight up. She truly didn't want to. After all, what were the chances of a wizened Elder Witch of the Wizengamot, giving the Minister a severe bollocking as Madam Marchbanks seemed poised to do? "Madam Marchbanks, please, lay off the Minister..."

"Yes, Ma'am," interjected Sirius. "You are the better, wiser person here. You needn't descend to Fudge's level."

"My Lord Black!" protested Fudge indignantly. It was obvious that his attempts to curry favour with this new Lord Black were doomed right from the start.

"Sirius!" admonished Amelia, without much force.

"Nae, the laddie is righ' Amelia," Madam Marchbanks said, slipping into the highlander brogue as she matched Fudge's levels of indignation. "A piss poor Minister o' Magic as he we hae not had!" She then pointed her stick into Cornelius' face. "Hear me, ye hae na heard the las' af me!" growled Griselda Marchbanks as she hobbled out leaving behind a crowd stunned by her sudden belligerence.

As the crowd parted before the old witch, a small beetle crawled out of Harry's pocket and flew onto his shoulder. "Get going, Rita. Let us give Fudge a Christmas present. And you get a thousand galleons as your bonus. Oh, and do meet me in Hogsmeade when I have a weekend there. This will be the destruction of a far larger person."

If a beetle could have shown delirious happiness, Rita was showing it at that moment. She buzzed around vigorously at the first comment, filled with glee at the prospect of spending her Yuletide bringing down Cornelius Fudge. The next comments were enough to make her swoon in delight. " ** _Ah,_** " thought Harry blissfully, " ** _the wonders of happy employees!_** "

* * *

Amelia had some paperwork to attend to after the very short and eventful session. So her two boys (no sane person would refer to Sirius – when he wasn't angry, fighting or working – as a man when boy/adolescent/or any other stage, preferably referring to an age lesser than twelve would suffice) sat obediently in the visitors' lounge. Both looked suitably bored to just sit around but kept very quiet, and the secretary had a sudden urge to reward them with lollies for being such good kids.

"Padfoot?"

"Hmm?"

"How much of the Garnarukran proposal have you completed?"

"A fair bit," replied Sirius, after some consideration. "There have been quite a few complications. Ragnok sent his best contracts and oaths person – a Garnarukro called Goldblood."

"Blimey! They sent someone from the Royal Family?"

"What?" Sirius yelped.

"Didn't you know? Goldblood is the Royal family's name."

"Oh bloody buggering hell!" Sirius muttered. "I have been only merely respectful while wrangling with both sides. I did not respect him as one would a Royal!"

"Good! If you respected him anyway, he is more likely to be pleased! So, calm down, mutt!" Sirius did calm down at that. "What are the complications anyway?"

"The complications are regarding the treaty with the Garnarukran Nation. There are several clauses that both sides are unhappy with – individually. The Ministry is not happy with their demands. They specifically want either you or me as the Ambassador to the Nation. You are in school, so that option is cut off anyway. And the Ministry is not yet comfortable with me..."

"If the Nation has accepted you then you need not worry. That is the best endorsement you can have."

Sirius sighed in relief. He then continued. "That apart, the Nation demands to have its own army as an independent sovereign race, and the Ministry obviously is unhappy with that. And frankly, I can't negotiate in that matter when I myself am not too sure whom to side with this in the matter."

"Both are equally justified," agreed Harry. "Have there been any solutions?"

"None yet; this new thing only came up last week."

"May I suggest something? Try suggesting that the two sides create a committee. It will maintain a constant dialogue of sorts. Remember, the respective ambassadors as well as I cannot be on the committee. It should be in theory, impartial. It could have a powerful artefact for judgement, something along the lines of the Goblet of Fire, leading the committee's decisions. Any human or Garnarukran grievance with the other side has to be passed through this committee, which will dissect the matter in its totality. Whoever is in the wrong will be suitably punished by their own side to the satisfaction of the other side. Set up guidelines for reasonable punishment. The Nation has to know that beheading is not always the best option. And the Ministry has to learn that honour, in all dealings, is important. Something, similar to what the mundane call the 'hotline', can also be set up. Push for a cessation of outstanding hostilities, and get a treaty that ensures that even if the Nation has an army, the committee will be the first port of call while solving the conflict and not a rebellion. It will make both parties happy."

"Brilliant!" agreed Sirius. "I'll try that. Is this how things are done in the mundane world?" he asked curiously.

"You know Sirius, I was going to get you the books for later, but I think I'll just give you them now. Honestly, the mundane governmental structures are far better and significantly efficient, given that they deal with a much larger population. It is a worthy read. In fact, I am going to give Gringotts a set of books on mundane commercial, economic and banking systems. It will be useful if some of the ways and means are adopted by the corresponding magical systems also."

"Are those people also just as cruel as the Garnarukran while collecting debts owed?"

"As much as the Garnarukran? No. Even the loans are regularised in terms of rates of interest. But banks being banks have the right to deny the disbursement of loans on the flimsiest of grounds also. There is governmental policy regularising almost everything, so that there is a standard that all systems have to adhere to. There are things like EMIs and stuff. It is actually too vast to explain offhand, but the basic point is that the governments have recognised finance and financial institutions as basic, intrinsic parts of the society. But what they legally are restrained from in cruelty, they make up for in irritating and making people lose their minds."

Sirius was very interested in the matter. "How do the banks recruit people?"

"Most bankers these days are not your usual 'store-money-give-loans-mortgage-and-clerks'. There are investment bankers, personal bankers, feasibility and business resource managers, and so on and so forth. At Gringotts, everything falls under the singular remit of the personal account manager. Mundane banks have evolved far from the common ground which they shared from Gringotts. The employees these days are chiefly graduates in finance and business administration." Harry frowned slightly. "Say, why don't you ask Dr. Granger? I never had a mundane bank account. Those two can guide you better. In fact, you could persuade the Nation to send a study team to mundane banks, and also the ministry to send similar teams to the mundane governmental offices to understand how the systems work."

Sirius could accept that. They were very interesting topics – banking and governance. Sirius was unconsciously stepping into the role of a reformer with regards to many sectors of Wizarding society. Prongslet, had decided that he wanted to pursue enchanting and technomancy, but had been too busy to do anything about it. Sirius on the other hand had all the time in the world and the influence which was growing due to his association with Amelia, Harry, his own activities post-exoneration and also the Black name. There was a lot that he could do. And if he was truthful to himself, it was also very exciting – far more than being an Auror ever was.

It all came from the fact that despite everything else, Sirius was _also_ a big kid. And that meant that for him, everything was a matter of curiosity. Then he had the natural tendency to abhor something just because it was 'traditionally don that way'. Everything had to be changed, reformed, and if something that was related to the matter caught his fancy in the meantime, this new thing's finer points to had to be incorporated. And then the entire thing had to be reworked to make it even better. Just so that people would accept the changes, these changes had to be sold to the people, to make it seem as if those very changes were what people wanted all along. Having borne the brunt of a terrible, biased and summarily useless system, it became his main point of attack.

The only problem with this was the continued and unwelcome existence of Voldemort.

In the brief silence that ensued while Sirius was thinking, Harry was entertaining similar thoughts, though on wholly different subjects. Lately he had become enamoured with the idea of applying physics to explain how magic came to be. A case in point was the summoning charm. Was it an idealised condition of a severely directed Gravitational Field? If so, how was such direction achieved? Gravitational fields were centred on the mass exerting the field, so how was only one sector including an infinitesimally small angle isolated? Or was it so that the field strength corresponding to every other radian was assimilated into that small sector? If so, how did the banishing charm work? Unlike electric charges and the fields they projected, there was no 'positive' or 'negative for the gravitational fields – only a case of fields being stronger or weaker corresponding to the masses that projected them.

This was just one of several theories that he had, and unknown to him, none were logically or scientifically correct, because he was assuming the presence of magic while trying to disprove its very existence by explaining it away using science. But he had now set out on a track, and in spite of it being broken in several places, he very much intended to go through with the things. Much to his increasing annoyance, he had realised that magic only had rules incorporated arbitrarily. Science was based on observation, experimentation and conclusions. He so wanted to work on it, yet nearly every day, something new came along, obstructing him. There was only one conclusive reason for that.

The main and only problem with this was the continued and unwelcome existence of Voldemort.

In that moment, he remembered something that Cassiopeia had said. True love and family magic would drive away Voldemort for good. He could admit to himself, though, that Cassiopeia was harping too much about true love. At best, it could've been to wake him and make him smell the roses. Either way, the family Grimoire needed studying.

"We need to remove this Voldemort," Sirius started with a glint in his eye.

"My Reaper told me about the solution existing in the Family Grimoire."

"But it is too big, and only those belonging to the Potter Family can see the contents!"

"And two sons of the Potter Family are seated right here!"

"So a late Christmas gift to old Mouldy-shorts is in the offing?"

"If we can, sure. It would be very bad form to forget Tommy boy, wouldn't it? We should then lead the Wizengamot on a wild-goose chase to make it change, and later give the magical world a token to describe the Death of Voldemort!"

"A prank on the whole magical world?" asked Sirius with a proud and manic grin. "It is a real pity you weren't with us at Hogwarts," he said with a sigh. "You'd have made a diabolical marauder. You are better than Peter..."

"Any ** _thing_** would be better than Wormtail. Such an insult by my own father..."

Sirius glared at him to cut him off. "So starting from tonight, we spend the time in Potter Manor and give old Voldemort his last gift? Deal!"

"Deal!" agreed Harry.

They sat in silence again, waiting for Amelia to come out, before Sirius asked a question that was troubling him for quite some time. "Pup, you claim to be a Master Occlumens, yet you put in a violent display of emotion every now and then. What is the matter, exactly?"

Harry fidgeted. He should have expected Sirius to catch him. "Well, you do know that you alone know how I came back, don't you?" Sirius nodded. "Well, Cassiopeia ordered me to behave my age too. I am basically something of a dual consciousness being, with the consciousness that came back reducing in influence as the memories are used up and cease to be useful. Some part is real, but it is really small."

"So...all that shouting and angst is an act, right?"

"Yes."

"I thought so. You may be a decent actor when faced with people who don't know you or you don't want to open up to, but may I say that to us, it reeks of piss poor acting?"

"Oh, give me a break! Cassiopeia said the same thing!"

Sirius only sniggered in response.

"Hey! It's not easy, you know, pretending to be an angsty teenager! I will eventually run out of things to rant and be angry about!"

* * *

The party of two Boneses, one Potter-Black and one Black and eight of nine Weasleys (Ginny was absent – she was visiting Muriel out of choice!), entered ' **Cutlery and Finery** ', and were immediately enthralled by the setting, ambience and the scale at which food could be presented as a powerful source of business. It was an English fine-dining restaurant, and the four Eldest Weasleys showed remarkable affinity towards this kind of a setting. Interestingly, even Ron managed to be polite and well-mannered. Obviously, discussions were conducted in groups. Sirius, Mr. Weasley, Bill, Charlie and Percy were talking about the Ministry and the changes. Bill in particular was rather animated as he talked about the changed perceptions and whispers within Gringotts. Charlie was listening, chiefly. This was the first time Harry had met the second Weasley brother in this timeline. Percy too did not contribute much, but was very much interested in the treaty negotiations. He had talked to Harry about his internship with Greengrass-Doge-Tonks where he had received advice to pursue law in the mundane world. He was very happy with how things were progressing. As long as things did not lead to Percy forsaking his family for his work, it would not matter. That Percy was finding things going well for him was an excellent thing. Molly, Amelia and Susan were engaged in their own private talk.

Between courses, the talk inevitably turned to the restaurant Harry had proposed as a business for the Weasleys. "So, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. What's the verdict?"

"Positive," Arthur answered without hesitation. "Over your last term, Molly and I, and Bill – when he was allowed to be in England for any period of time – visited several such institutions. We talked to the Chefs and Managers and the Waiters and observed – sometimes under glamour – how everything worked. I must say that the whole business impressed me a lot. The final decision remains with Molly, though."

"Of course. What say you, Mrs. Weasley?"

"I am enthusiastic about it," Molly said a tad shyly, which was odd for the woman. None of the boys had ever seen her that way.

"That's the ticket," Sirius interjected. "For all that it is worth I believe that it will be an excellent idea. Now what I am going to say may seem a tad too opportunistic, but just hear me out, all the same. Also, please remember that this is effectively a secret for the larger part. Knockturn Alley has been totally destroyed. It is obvious that for the magical economy, little as it is, to sustain, new businesses have to be set up on the land. Both Harry and I, and quite a few more in the alliance have intention to buy land there. With the way we are planning the acquisition, it essentially means that you will have a sort of well-ensconced area, bang in the middle of several friendly establishments. The other very obvious option was the ex-Leaky Cauldron, but that is so no longer. Lord Dearborn helped Tom's nephew set-up a fund to refurbish the place. So we shall see it again."

"That is good," put in Susan. "It would not have been a good idea to start a place like the one you speak of there anyway. It is the intersection of the magical and mundane, and if you are talking about opening a place like this, it simply could not have doubled up as a journeyman's inn."

"Miss Bones is right of course," Percy spoke. "Even apart from her points, there remains the fact that the Leaky Cauldron was as close to being a heritage site of sorts as was possible, even when mundane London changed. It has its own goodwill. Replacing it would not have been a very good idea."

There was a brief stretch of silence, before Molly spoke up. "So Knockturn Alley is sensible?"

"Yes. In fact, I am willing to be a partner in this venture," replied Harry. "What it essentially means is that I will share the profits and losses, costs and expenditures, and just about every transaction. That way the pressure on you is eased up quite a lot. And if I may say so, apart from the money, I do have a few ulterior motives. The Peverell name has been dormant for quite too long. I intend to rejuvenate it. This is the best opportunity. The other thing is that this is something Ron will be comfortable with. Ron has a natural affinity and love for and understanding of food. This could very easily be his plan B, should – heavens forbid – his Quidditch aspirations not work out to his liking. He can easily manage the place."

"You mean it? You actually think I can do it?"

"I do. You will need to be trained up a bit. You will also need to learn Hotel Management, understand raw material markets, be up to speed with recipes, be able to check the quality of materials, and have at least a very firm grounding in accounts and bookkeeping. But I believe that you can do it." Ron only gaped back astounded, while the two eldest Weasleys watched with a look of pure gratitude and encouragement. "That said though, an ice-cream bar, a witness' license, legal representation and a private hall as well as party hall will not be out of place. It will become the go-to destination for important meetings and such. What will be needed is publicity. But for that we have got the neo-Marauders, Fred and George. Anything word-of-mouth, constructive, positive and classy will do the job, mates."

"Are you serious?" Ron blustered out finally, when Harry laid out the barest outline of the plan. It was hard work. Even though Ron was generally known to detest that, this was something that lay squarely towards his other biggest character trait. Ron did not want to be overshadowed by his brothers. This would be something that would be his own, and he was being told that he would be trusted with it. In simpler words, Ron was being given the importance that he craved. There was only a snowball's chance in purgatory that he wouldn't jump at it.

"You bet I am. Look Ron, I may joke about many things, but this is not one of those. What you have to realise, is that Voldemort will not be around for too long. That means that his DEs, who hold the bulk of liquid assets as well as material assets in our world will also be dead. Now some like the House of Prince of which Snape was a part, and the House of Malfoy, are in my possession. Whether I want to revitalise them or not is my choice. Some like the House of Nott are veering towards neutrality – in particular due to the decisions of its Heir. He may never be an ally – notice the use of the word 'may' – but his father has ceased to be of any consequence in the dealings of that family. There may even be some DEs who were coerced under threat to their families. Such people might really want a way out. All this has thrown the economy into imbalance. The effects are not yet so visible, but they will be soon. This will be particularly important in potions businesses, the media, and land ownership and so on. Each of these families had significant shares in several businesses, legitimate or otherwise. If the Heirs are unmarked, again, as in Theodore Nott's case, the monies will be preserved till such time when he becomes the head of the family legally. Now money must flow, it must change hands, for otherwise the stagnancy that will be a result will eventually destroy everyone. It is a bit like the butterfly's wings. One business down in Scotland could potentially bring down the Ministry – that sort of thing. Everything is a chain, as nothing can exist in isolation. All businesses, directly or indirectly, are dependent on each other."

"Could you explain that?" Ron asked.

"Suppose there are three businesses – A, B and C. If Business A owes money to C, which C has to use to pay business B, and business B has to use the money Business C paid them to invest in Business A, then nobody has money at all. Now expand this to the level of an entire country. Do you get the picture?"

Ron pondered for a moment, before answering, "So you mean that it would be like Tutshill Tornadoes have a reserve player that the Cannons have to buy, but to keep the squad strength intact they have to reach an agreement with the Appleby Arrows for a player. If those negotiations fail then the Tornadoes don't get that player and so can't release the player for the Cannons. Am I right?"

"Exactly!" said Harry in elation that he had gotten his point across. "In such a scenario, those families that have some money, but not much, can initiate a process to build the family fortunes. In Quidditch terminology, it would be the Blackburn Bludgers consolidating their mid-table position with the players they have and possibly pushing for a top-4 position, so to speak. Mr. Weasley, I apologise for being so presumptuous as to speak what I am going to say freely, but I think it is important for Ron to understand."

"You needn't apologise, Harry. I have personally never delved much into economics. I must say I haven't had it explained to me this way either. Do speak," Arthur replied.

"Bill is a Curse-Breaker, and from what I know, he is fairly happy. Even though he will one day be the Head of the Ancient House of Weasley, he will be a paid employee. The same is the case with Charlie, who loves Dragons, without the Head of Family part. Not that there is anything wrong with it, and I don't mean any offence," he said with hands raised in a placating gesture towards the two oldest Weasley sons.

"None taken," Bill assured.

"Percy has ambitions in the legal field. He will need some time to make a name for himself; but, that said, he can be the first of you who can have his own set-up. Fred and George could very well open a prank shop, but the market is almost exclusively monopolised by Zonko's. Again, that might take a few years for them to establish a fierce sort of competition. We do not know. That market remains in the undefined category, and as I said the potions ingredients business will be affected and several pranks use potions. So nothing is cut and dried for them. That brings us to you. You wish to play for the Cannons, but without making any judgement about your ability, I must say that if you are venturing into a field which is fraught with uncertainty, it will always work to have a contingency plan. Injuries are an unforeseen factor. In such a situation, the plan B will help you. Now tie that up with the fact that barring the Sleeping Serpent in the erstwhile Knockturn Alley, any establishment that the Weasley family sets up will be the first of its kind. So before the competition starts, you could as well be on the way to opening another branch. This business simultaneously keeps all of you brothers happy in the work of your choice or to your liking, generates new money for the Weasley family, and also makes the name famous. The food business is a business that will simply never go out of business. Moreover, when you eventually own the land on which your establishment stands, you will have real estate to the family name. In other words, using resources that could very well be found in the mundane world alone, you could create a veritable legacy of your own. Why instead of just a restaurant like this one, you could open a franchise-type chain shop like McDonald's which provides budget foods! Do you understand what I am saying?"

Harry had to stare back at his audience as he relinquished the soapbox. Arthur and Molly were staring at him as was Ron, while the other five seemed very much deep in thought. Sirius had a proud smirk and yet, also an intrigued expression on his face. Amelia was pretty much the same while Susan was sniggering.

When nobody spoke for a whole two minutes, Harry ventured, "Er, Mr. Weasley? There endeth the lesson."

"When and why did you learn all this?" Molly practically demanded.

"Circumstances, Mrs. Weasley," Harry answered. "I did not know about magic and therefore the House of Potter or any such thing before my eleventh birthday. It had been pretty clearly told to me that I would be unwelcome post my sixteenth birthday in that...house. So this restaurant thing was my plan then, because I was pretty sure that I wouldn't be getting any money to pursue engineering as I wanted to."

"But were you reading about the economy?" asked Bill.

"That actually was inspired by Voldemort."

"What?" Bill gasped and yelped.

"Yes. You know that he had possessed our DADA professor in our first year, don't you? That bloke I killed?"

"Yeah, that Quirrel bloke was just too much of a fake, even though we didn't understand it at first," supplied Ron. This was clearly news to Bill.

"That he was. Dumbledore had hidden the Philosopher's stone in Hogwarts. Or so he claimed, anyway. Why did Voldemort covet it? The answer was simple. It would have given him the Elixir of life, and an unlimited supply of gold. In effect, people like Malfoy, who were his erstwhile moneybags, would become disposable. Voldemort, with the stone would have held the two most terrible powers known to mankind – immortality and economy. That sparked my interest in economy. It is one more front on which he can be crippled. And crippled he is."

"Blimey!" muttered Charlie, who had been quite all along. "Blimey!" he muttered again. "I can claim to have got a lesson in economics and its application in passive warfare from a thirteen year old kid." He shook his head in disbelief. Harry wanted to grimace. This was a bit too inflated. But he had no reason to persuade anyone otherwise if the person insisted on creating an inflated positive opinion about Harry.

Ron was looking at Harry like he had grown a second head. "You read extra? Did Hermione bite you or something? Did she turn you?"

Harry turned bright red at the "biting" remark. "I did and she did not, and she did not. Contrary to popular belief, I do revel in scholastic pursuits."

"What?" The use of big words had thrown Ron off track.

"I meant that I like learning, as much as Hermione does. The difference is in the priorities. She loves learning for learning's sake. I like to learn what I know will be useful for me. For her, knowledge is sacred. For me it is power. That is actually what gave the Sorting hat trouble, you know. She had the option of Ravenclaw. I had the option of Slytherin." Ron only goggled at his friend.

Fred and George had gone onto a different tangent. "Oh knowledgeable one!" crowed Fred.

"What should we do?" completed George.

"Boys!" admonished Molly. "Don't trouble him!"

"But mum!" whined – **_whined_**! – Fred.

"We are only going to pick his brains!"

"You know perfectly well that it is an unacceptable thing!" Molly scolded.

"I am sorry, but that is where you are wrong Mrs. Weasley," interrupted Sirius. "You are only looking at it through the pranks. What you don't see is the way they employ Runes, Potions, Arithmancy, Transfiguration and Charms, along with creating and inventing. In the mundane world, such people are coveted. They could be excellent enchanters, or could very easily be the ones that production is outsourced to. It's very serious business, Mrs. Weasley. All they would have to do is taking up jobs or apprenticeships with existing enchanters or apothecaries and build up a supplier network while simultaneously building a small but loyal customer base before opening their business. I would know. Prongs, Moony, Wormtail and I had similar ideas if the war had ended well, after all," he added nostalgically, almost in a monologue.

That turned the twins to a completely different avenue. "Wait – does that mean you are Padfoot?"

"Yes, I am," Sirius replied with an easy grin.

"Blimey!" the twins muttered in unison, and remained silent for the rest of the time.

* * *

As they left, Harry handed Bill the contact details of Healer Scott. "Keep it secret, Bill. But I needed to be cleansed by a ritual by Healer Scott. We don't know what the matter might be with Ginny, but better safe than sorry."

"You think it's necessary?" Bill asked.

"I do," Harry answered without hesitation.

"Then I'll get Ginny to her immediately. Thanks Harry. You're a good kid – no, you're a good man," Bill replied with a smile as he clapped Harry's shoulder.

* * *

"You did it on purpose, did you not?" Sirius asked, as they left for Grimmauld Place.

"Was there any doubt?"

"No. All the same, that is not the way a thirteen year old speaks or thinks."

"I'm not really thirteen, am I?"

"No, you aren't. But I am pretty sure that you have never read anything remotely related to moneymaking."

"Eh..." Harry started, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. "You know how I got to spend time with Grandpa Charlus, don't you? It was all his idea actually, and it sort of clicked."

"That makes sense," agreed Sirius. "That also explains why you were attempting to flatter Molly and her youngest son."

"Of I had to flatter them. If it gets me money, eventually, why not? If it wouldn't, would I have ever accused Ron of having 'some understanding of food'? Merlin, that bloke will shove anything down his mouth!"

Sirius merely chortled in response.


	40. Chapter 40

**An Eventful Christmas – IV**

A/N:

1) My thanks to alix33 for going over each of the previous chapters and proofreading them.

* * *

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

The terrible scream that emanated from Sirius' bedroom on Christmas morning, had Minerva (who had arrived on the evening of the 24th), Remus (nursing an award-winning headache – a sure sign of the oncoming full-moon), and Susan (bleary-eyed) rushing out with their wands in their hands towards the source of the scream. They hastened to rush even faster when they heard an accompanying screams (the original one was very manly, of course). When they reached the corridor, though, they had to move quickly towards the walls as a large...something bounded past them as if chased by wild dogs. Remus later would remark, that, given Sirius' mood at that moment, it would've easily been true – had he not been in a compromising position.

"Just what happened here?" demanded Minerva, clutching at her chest, as she huffed and puffed. "I have just come running into the corridor, had to evade something big, and was woken up violently on what I thought was a holiday for my aching joints at – what is the time? – yes a quarter to eight." She looked at them with the patented teacher's look that promised detentions to everyone if she did not get answers immediately.

Now, either of Sirius and Remus could be called experienced hands at deflecting the Stern Teacher Glare TM from Minerva. Having wormed their way out of extreme situations when faced with very long detentions by making up stories on the go, both remaining Marauders – particularly Sirius, given the situation – could have concocted a reasonable excuse within a few moments. But Amelia had never been a Marauder. She capitulated.

Minerva, for the life of her, couldn't understand why Amelia was blushing enough to put an English Tea Rose to shame. While normally, she could've spotted a schoolgirl blushing upon being caught in a broom-cupboard, she couldn't connect that with the woman – the Head of the DMLE, no less – in spite of her being around her betrothed, a scamp by the name Sirius Black. The two Marauders that were present realised that old Minnie McGonagall was losing her touch in that case.

"Why are you blushing?" the woman asked, causing Amelia to go even redder, if that was possible.

With both the people who would have tortured him with this information, already in possession of it, Sirius shook his head and replied contritely, "Harry barged unexpectedly, in another form, while Amelia was giving me an early Christmas present." He said it in such a calm manner, though, that Susan didn't suspect a thing.

Minerva in turn, though, understood and imitated a goldfish, before asking Sirius a very serious question. "And are you going to avoid him? It will make things awkward between you three. Inasmuch as he knew what was going on implicitly, it would be better if his father had a chat with him." She then turned around and left, a secret smile gracing her face, while shepherding a still sleepy Susan away. She did not need to look behind her to know that she had left the two Marauders speechless.

"Did the devious old kitty actually say that?" Sirius asked after a protracted silence.

"She did," answered Remus. Then his face took a very dangerous glint – dangerous for Sirius' sanity and dignity, that is. "Lady Christmas visited you early, did she?" he asked Sirius with a wicked leer at Amelia.

Sirius groaned. Now he was going to be the butt of all sorts of hideous teasing till Pup, Moony, Minnie and Susan left for Hogwarts. He really could have banged his head on the wall for his stupidity. Amelia on the other hand, refused to meet the eyes of either of the two men as they started their day, Remus walking away, whistling jauntily.

* * *

Harry had prepared it very early in the morning. Dobby, unable to sit while someone was working had gone about fetching things. It was his first Christmas – not that elves celebrated Christmas – with family. He had lived for six months without the bondage of slavery. He loved his family. He had kept dogman company while Harry was off to Hogwarts, he had also taken care of the very same dogfather, and he had – even though he hadn't been ordered to do so – kept Marauders' Place clean. It was a real difference, a very quiet Dobby realised. He was about to eat at the table. He was about to eat a celebratory meal that a human – even though said human was his friend – had prepared with only minimal voluntary help from him. He looked around. He could watch TV (the little elf was addicted). He could live in the place happily. And it was home for him. It was just as much home as it was for all the people who visited this house, or lived in it. It was so different than anything that he had been accustomed to.

For as long as he could remember, he was just ordered to do things for Malfoy. That was another change. Once he would have referred to that heinous man as bad master. Now he was Malfoy. Dobby now had no master – even though he would not have minded if Harry had bonded with him as his Master. He had spent so many months expecting dogfather or dogman, as he called Sirius, to order him around or to mistreat him. Harry had warned that Sirius would get angry and violent or scared and sad because he was still recovering from the dementors. While elves were not affected as much as humans, Dobby could understand that. Dogman had been a bit awkward and standoffish with him – again, Harry had explained about Kreacher, so even if he did not like it, he could understand. But apart from that, when dogman had started recovering, he had become a friend. He showed Dobby TV. He had also taught him proper English, both reading and writing. Now Dobby had his own books. Dobby loved books more than the handkerchiefs. It was so different.

Over the past six months, Dobby had learnt that they were never going to mistreat him. He had remained quiet, learning about the people and the house. Now he had learnt that everyone was family. And Dobby loved his new family, because he was a member, not a slave. He realised that he was lucky. Not many elves had got the chance and treatment that he had throughout their history. Over time some elves had learnt to love what Hermi (he still couldn't say Hermione) had called slavery. Dobby did not. He wanted to change the way elves thought, just as Harry was trying to change how humans thought. Perhaps he could show other elves how he lived and was still healthy to make them understand. Who knew?

Most of all, though, Dobby was happy. He liked everyone, and everyone liked him. He just wanted all elves to be happy as he was.

+++XXX+++

"Bloody hell Harry!" swore Sirius. "That was some bacon!" Minerva and Amelia chastised him for his language as one, while Susan, Remus and Harry snickered. As much as Sirius tried for the dignified pureblood persona he sometimes had to display, he simply couldn't keep his guard up around family. At such times, he was stricken by the foot-in-mouth syndrome with alarming regularity also.

"You eat it and then scold me, Amy. He cooks better than Kreacher did; and as much as I disliked that little..."

"Sirius!"

"...git, he was an excellent cook. Not that I detest him as much as I once did. It makes sense actually, what Hermione said. Kreacher just didn't know better. For all it would've ever meant, he would've taken orders from Lils and Hermione if they had treated him well," he added musingly. He shook his head to clear the elf-induced cobwebs, when the most unlikely person entered the conversation unexpectedly.

"Dobby thinks so too. When Dobby first came here, Dobby thought Dobby would be punished. Dobby was foolish. Dobby should have known that Harry and Dogman weren't Masters. Harry and dogman are friends. Dobby wants to show this to everyone. Dobby understands that some elves will like to serve. But some elves will be like Dobby, and will like their family, will like to learn from books and watch TV. Dobby wants to teach other elves."

Everyone stared at the little elf in surprise, mouths agape, making him cringe. Perhaps he should have waited longer.

"That is an excellent idea, Dobby!" Minerva commended. She still had to show that she was a teacher though, so she corrected the flaw. "But you are still referring to yourself in the third person."

"You don't think Dobby-" Minerva raised her eyebrows, "I am wrong?"

"No," answered Sirius. "The fact is that our world has preserved a status quo for too long. I must confess that my knowledge about elves is not much, and whatever there is, is coloured by my memories of Kreacher who was symbolic of my family. But I have been to that House every day since we corrected the problem and now he has changed. It makes me wonder what things would be like if elves and people actually talked with each other beyond the subservience and dominance the two sides are respectively entrenched in." He looked at Dobby. "Did you understand what I said?"

"I will have to look up the spellings and the exact meanings in the dictionary, but I understood what you said."

"Very good!" complimented Sirius. "The other way to say what you said is that you understood the context. That means that you understood the meaning of the words even if you don't know the words themselves, based on how those words were used, and in relation to whom or what."

Dobby nodded. "Is that C-O-N-T-E-K-S-T?"

"No, Dobby. This word is not like 'tasks'. It uses 'X' instead of 'K-S'."

"So it is C-O-N-T-E-X-T?"

"Correct!"

Dobby took out a notebook out of the pocket of the hideously multi-coloured mundane-style clothes (the sort that toddlers wore) that would have made Dumbledore stop in his tracks, and with a pencil, wrote down the word. Amelia and Minerva looked upon this exchange with great surprise. It was slightly – no, very – amusing and surprising to see this side of Sirius, the one of a patient teacher.

Sirius continued serenely. "Now, Dobby, we have covered Basic English reading, writing and arithmetic up to what would be taught to a second-form student. I like your idea of a school for elves, I really do. But for that, I think that you should be well-educated yourself. And I have just the way to do that, provided you can disguise yourself. I was thinking that we could enrol you into the mundane school system. The rest of the time, you could go around speaking to elves, understanding more about elfish history so that you will be ready for whatever changes you feel will be necessary."

Dobby was floored. This, right here, was proof of what he had learnt over the past six months. What other pureblood (well, some of Harry's friends _might_ have) would have talked about educating him? Who else would have taught him to read and write like humans? Dobby was treated like a person with his own views and ideas, which was exactly what he was. He was also given means to go about fulfilling or investigating those means. That was all that really mattered to Dobby. This was freedom – here he was responsible for himself, but with steady support from the very sort of people who would have kicked him and ordered him around. It made him accept his family even more. It pressed home the growing feeling that Dobby had – he was the happiest elf alive!

"Thank you!" Dobby exclaimed joyfully, if shrilly. "Dobby can – I can do that! I like books! I want to learn!"

Sirius chuckled. "We will make a Ravenclaw of you already! Well, we have to register you into the mundane registry and systems, get all sorts of papers made and all that, but come next autumn, you'll be in mundane primary school. I promise you that."

Dobby did not understand why it was necessary, but now knew the 'when'. That was enough for him. This was the best Christmas ever. He could only respond with a beaming smile.

* * *

Just after breakfast, Andromeda, Nymphadora and Ted came around. It was the first Black family Christmas Yule celebration in years. Not that any of those present bothered with the definitions. The actual Yule traditions had fallen by the wayside long ago in the Black family for quite a while. It had been replaced by arrogant declarations regarding pureblood supremacy, meaningless indoctrinations and the like, making the time for togetherness and celebration seem like torture for Sirius.

The current mood was what Sirius always envisioned Christmas to be. The time was for family, joy, celebrations and of course, presents. That was important. Nobody would ever try to forget about presents.

It was almost picture-perfect. Minerva, the oldest among all those present, was sitting on the rocking chair that Sirius and Amelia had bought a couple of months back, looking every bit the part of the (unofficial) matriarch of the family, with a serene smile on her face instead of the stern visage she always wore.

Off to the side, Amelia, Ted and Andi were engaged in what was most certainly a very serious conversation for the Healer/ Potion Mistress. Ted and Amelia, though, were clearly making spirited attempt at controlling their mirth.

Dobby and Harry were 'gathering the presents', which Sirius was sure was an excuse to rig them up with pranks. He had half a mind to stop them when they went – but the other half realised that he was more likely to help them. And it would have been to hypocritical of him to prevent Harry from doing something that he himself had done several times before.

Moony was sitting a few feet away from him, curled up with a book near the fireplace in the room, his ease portraying that he was perfectly at home there. He looked like a person in his late twenties or early thirties – as he was – now that he had started using a hair dye. The only minor deviation from the stereotypical picture of a relaxed, young, gentleman Professor was the fact that he was slugging in the Wolfsbane Potion from a goblet instead of steaming hot chocolate from a mug. His pre-full moon health niggles were muted, but still there. So nobody bothered him as he sat in peaceful solitude.

Little – no, he had to stop that – Cousin Dora was enthralling Susan with her metamorphmagus capabilities. Susan had a look of wide-eyed wonder at the girl. They had met twice before when Amy had taken Susan to the Ministry the previous summer, and were certainly getting along quite well. He didn't, however, miss her intrigued and curious glances at Moony either. Pup had told him that that relation wasn't to be forced, but if he could do anything about it, Pup was going to get his godson back.

Sirius sighed in happiness. This was a _Happy_ Christmas. The only other Christmas celebrations that compared favourably to this one were the ones after he had escaped from his family to James'. That reminded him of something important.

"Kreacher!"

A small pop heralded the House-elf's arrival. Kreacher looked positively normal and clean, if old, for a house-elf. He also wore the tuxedo that he had sewn for himself. "Yes Master Sirius?"

Sirius conjured a small stool for the elf to sit on. "Come sit, Kreacher," he commanded kindly.

Kreacher sat there, with not a little confusion. "What can Kreacher do for Master?"

"Nothing at the moment, Kreacher, thanks. I realised that you must be terribly alone at Grimmauld Place. I just wondered whether you would like to spend time here."

This treatment was not new to Kreacher. Master Regulus had looked out for Kreacher, though the poor elf couldn't remember any of his orders. What **_was_** new was the person who was treating him well. Kreacher remembered Sirius only as a rebellious brat who would constantly make him run around cleaning up after him, or creating enough chaos for Mistress Wall-berg-a to go mad.

"Thank you, Master! But old House will be empty if Kreacher stays."

"Don't worry about that, old chap. I will be coming around later and will be living there till the third of January," Sirius informed him. He then fished in his pockets for something and retrieved a small package. "I actually called you because I wanted to give you your present."

Kreacher eyed the package with trepidation. "It is not being clothes, is it, Master?"

"Merlin! No! I wouldn't do that to you, Kreacher! I just wanted to thank you for the fine job you have been doing while serving the House of Black. Go on, open it."

So Kreacher opened it. It was the Black Coat-of-arms, cast in silver, and set as a pin for Kreacher to wear on his left coat lapel. Sirius had actually been in a quandary. He hadn't really thought to get Kreacher anything, till Harry had reminded him. He had pointed out that Kreacher would be a most loyal and unfailing resource. That did not mean that Sirius automatically knew what to get for the elf. It wasn't as if Kreacher was Dobby. That football fanatic of an elf got a complete football kit for kids. What was he to buy for Kreacher, really? He had despised that elf before, and now he didn't know him adequately enough to buy something meaningful. Amelia had suggested the pin as it signified Kreacher's status as one of the House of Black.

"Do you like it?"

Kreacher looked back at Sirius with a constrained but worshipful expression mingled with curiosity. "Kreacher likes it very much, Master Sirius. Thank you!" He then simply popped off.

The incident had not gone unnoticed. "You have changed," noted Remus.

Sirius acknowledged him with a nod. "I had to. Azkaban does change one's outlook."

"As do time-travelling godsons and enthusiastic betrotheds?" rejoined Remus.

"Oh, they certainly do," Sirius replied with a smug smirk. He then dropped the smirk and became...serious. "I wanted to change, Remus. As much as the external factors influenced me, the truth remains that I **_wanted_** to change. I was adrift before Azkaban. Now I have reasons to do what I do or have to do. Now people that I love have certain expectations of me, unlike my mother and her madness, and I **_want_** to fulfil those." He looked at his friend with a slight frown. "I am not explaining well, am I?"

"I understand what you are saying, Sirius," Remus assured. "You grew up."

"That I did. That I did indeed."

"PRESENTS!" shouted Harry from the stairs as he levitated the large sack from the room upstairs. Sirius bolted from his chair.

Remus chuckled. "Grown up, indeed!"

People dragged or levitated their chairs to form a circle around the tree as Sirius cried, "I am Santa!"

The first gift was Sirius' for Andi. "Go on!" Sirius implored, and for a moment it seemed as if he would turn into Padfoot and pant and wag his tail enthusiastically. Unfortunately, he had forgotten that Harry and Dobby had tinkered with the packages. As soon as Andi started to rip open the wrapping paper, a loud bang issued from it, and a large soft toy in the shape of a Velociraptor jumped out of the package.

"SIRIUS!" shrieked Andromeda in consternation – after she had shrieked out of fright, first. "MUST YOU ALWAYS BE SO JUVENILE?"

"But I did-didn't Andi! I-I swear!" Sirius stuttered as he rose out of his seat and started retreating from his cousin's formidable anger. Everyone else was laughing their heads off. Andromeda glared at Sirius, who in turn glared at his godson and Dobby.

"They did it!" Sirius was quick to rat Harry out to Andromeda though.

"And I pretty sure that you were the one who taught them how to do it," retorted Andromeda. Just to discipline the three though, she sent very mild stinging hexes at all three, eliciting a simultaneous "Ow!" from each of them.

Her actual gift turned out to be her status as the Matron of the House – in other words, even though she wasn't the Head of House, she was the Lady of the House, until marriage brought in the next Lady. In effect, she was the Matriarch of House Black.

Ted scanned his gift furtively, but still was startled by the Jack-in-the-package. He got a trekking kit from Sirius, a new golf club from Harry, a ridiculously old manuscript of laws from Moony, and new boots from his daughter and a new VCR from his wife.

Minerva, astonishingly, got two sets of gifts, with a combined one from Sirius, Moony and Harry. The boy wasn't foolish enough to prank the packages even further. It contained catnip, a ball of yarn, a scratching post that had been shrunk beforehand, a can of tuna, cat-flaps on her door, and a laser pointer. Harry had briefly entertained the idea of telling her about the keyboard up in his room, but then decided against it. Hermione had mentioned Crookshanks' fixation with the object in their sixth year the first time around.

The poor old woman, on her part, stared at the items in question in confusion and shock, before realising that she had been pranked. "I really should have bought kennels for you two," she deadpanned, when she finally was able to articulate her indignation in the most dignified way that was possible for her to muster on demand.

She only got three wide grins in response, much to her exasperation.

The gifts that had Sirius gasping, drooling and slightly teary-eyed were the ones that Harry had given him. Harry had blindfolded his godfather and his fiancée before leading them out towards the space outside the garage where two pieces of machinery were parked, one of them disillusioned.

"Bonnie!" he exclaimed, as soon as he saw the black and silver motorcycle. He sprang towards the bike and started caressing it, a look of absolute wonder and childlike glee lighting up his face. "Lily gave it to me the first time around on my eighteenth birthday," he informed them with a distinct warble in his voice, as he kick-started the engine. The powerful pistons worked up a pleasant rhythm of drum beats.

"WOOOHOOO!" he cried as he rode the bike around the place. Harry had had Hagrid send it over, and then with the help of Architect Wilshere, found out a mechanic who knew hailed from a magical family. He had restored the beauty to pristine condition. Remus and Amelia (each having ridden the bike several times thirteen years ago), Susan, Dora and Harry each took turns to be the pillion rider, and Ted rode it once himself. Andromeda and Minerva though kept the very idea at a distance. It would not do for dignified ladies as those two to partake in such hooliganism. The distasteful sniff in the direction of the Motorbike Revellers had perfectly expressed their opinion over the issue.

The distaste came to an abrupt end when Amelia and Harry lifted the disillusionment charms off a heavily (and ridiculously; Moony had insisted that painting the poor car red, gold and purple would make it invaluable to Sirius' eyes, even though Amelia was adamant that the production green was perfect. Harry had withdrawn from that particular discussion) modified and enhanced Land Rover Discovery.

"What the hell is that thing?" Andromeda asked after she had gotten over her shock (only partially; she did swear after all) at seeing the car – which looked as if Dobby and Dumbledore had run rampant while decorating it – enough to be able to speak.

"Did someone spill a whole bloody palette on the poor thing?" Sirius asked, completely seriously. Neither of Andromeda, Amelia and Minerva deigned to correct his language.

Remus was calling on all his years of discipline to refrain from laughing at the looks of indignation on Amelia and Harry's faces and shock mixed with revulsion on the faces of the rest.

"Cor blimey! Even I don't have hair that many colours at a time!" exclaimed Dora at last.

That was it for the mangy wolf, as he broke out into subdued chuckles at first, which quickly turned into a full-bellied laugh.

"He pranked us didn't he?" Sirius asked his fiancée, who nodded. "Pooh-a, pooh-a wolfie!" he then mourned in jest, his voice shrill in a botched attempt at imitating a Loony Tunes character. "I taut I taw an attept ad a joke dere!" The reference was lost on all the ladies but Dora.

Once Remus had calmed down, he waved his wand at the car and restoring the colour deep metallic evergreen (the bonnet panel remained scarlet, however) and entered it with the others following his lead. The car, usually fitted with five seats had undergone an undetectable expansion to comfortably seat ten and store luggage too. It had a fairly decent mundane music system, a charm usually used in houses to keep the temperature controlled at 24oC, an ever-filling charm on the diesel tank, cushioning charms on top of the suspension, a kind of construction charm used for trusses in bridges that served the function of a roll cage, and the anti-crash and stabilisation enchantments that were used on flying carpets. Even though Moony would be teaching Sirius and Amelia to drive, no safety feature would ever be a bit too much.

"It is beautiful!" Sirius decided.

"Of course it is. Don't you see? All ten of us can go on drives in this!" Amelia pointed out gleefully.

"I am driving!" Remus decisively claimed. "I have even got a license!"

"As long as we go around in one piece in that contraption!" grumbled Minerva, still scared of the... _ **green thing**_ as she insisted on calling it.

It was some more time before Minerva asked the question that she had been itching to ask since that morning. "So will somebody tell me what exactly happened this morning? Who – or rather – what was it that interrupted them when Amelia was giving Sirius a very early _**Christmas present**_?" The old tabby couldn't help it; her lips were twitching madly as she struggled to subdue a smile. She decided to let the constraints on her reactions go when Harry went quite green while Sirius and Amelia suddenly had all five litres of blood rushing into their face as they blushed. Susan caught up with the innuendo soon and exchanged a glance with Harry before her face turned ashen too, while the Tonkses and Moony burst out laughing.

"Well?" she demanded again. She wasn't going to let this one go.

"Can we not talk about this, please?" Harry and Susan whined as one.

"No."

It was becoming difficult for them to stay put. Instead of Amelia and Sirius, it was them being tortured. Finally, Sirius came to the rescue.

"Bollocks to it, I say! Show them all, Prongslet!" demanded Sirius.

"It was supposed to be a special present for you and Moony both, Sirius," Harry replied softly. "I wanted to keep it as a surprise for him for the day after tomorrow. Just as for you, this is his first real Christmas since 1980."

"I know pup," responded Sirius. "But I think Moony has had a glimpse of it anyway, so at least this way you can extricate yourself from her torture," he reasoned, jerking a thumb at Minerva. What he did not say was that he hoped that that course of action would also distract Minerva enough to not torture him.

Harry shrugged. And then, he transformed. Standing in his place was a creature familiar to the two Marauders. Moony instantly sprang off his chair as he saw a creature he had last seen twelve years ago, with Sirius following a split second later. The gleaming red coat, the white fur down the throat and the large branched antlers; it was all the same except the green eyes.

"Prongs," they gasped in unison, as they ran a hand down the coat of fur with suspiciously shiny eyes.

"But how?" asked Dora in absolute confusion. "I'd read that he was a bloody dragon!"

It was quite some time before Sirius spoke and explained. "It is something he found out. Anyone can be an animagus, and can assume any form they want to. It is quite unlike the potion which is used, generally. As it turns out only a metamorph-magic is an actual special power." He then met her eyes and calmly said, "I would be much obliged if you didn't mention this multi-animagus thing." Dora only nodded.

Sirius stopped speaking again as he turned into Padfoot and started gambolling around with the stag. When he started hounding Harry a bit too much in the enclosed space, he was rewarded with a sharp jab on his hindquarters. He transformed with a grin. "That's exactly what James used to do!" The stag snorted heavily. Neither saw the slight tightening of Amelia's and Remus' faces.

* * *

The 'green thing' was not derided when it proved to be a wonderfully comfortable ride to Crawley, where they were invited to Hermione's Christmas Party for the forty mile trip via the M25 and then the M23. By the end of the smooth ride, Minerva had (very stiffly, mind) travelled to the land of nod. She had been nudged awake by Andromeda and had instantly blushed at the sense of utter relaxation that the small nap left her with. She cast freshening charms on herself and returned to the Professor McGonagall face that she wore. Immediate family now knew her enough to know that it was a mask.

Hermione had, apparently assuming Weasley-level tardiness for the guests to get ready and arrive, had called them in a bit early. This meant that Andromeda, Dora and Sirius got time to catch up with their long-lost cousin, which was the main object of the invitation to the informal get-together that the Grangers held each year. Ted, Amelia and Minerva hung back a bit, not knowing anyone but the Grangers, and even them they knew only in passing.

And it also meant that Harry was accosted by David and Jean while Hermione was engaged in conversation with Susan. At a glance from David, Jean moved towards the three new guests. It was hardly a sign of good hospitality to leave them to fend for themselves in such a new environment.

"Can we have a word, Harry?" David Granger asked, coming straight to the point with his tone. The meaning was clear – "you hurt my princess somehow, you little twerp!"

Harry froze momentarily, before acquiescing. "Yes sir?"

"Would you please tell us why exactly you and Hermione had a falling-out this year?"

"Sir?" wondered Harry.

"My Lord?" retorted David imperiously. He was turning the game on Harry with the honorific.

"I suppose you remember the Life Debt that I claimed off one of our classmates?"

"Similar to the one you claimed off Hermione?"

"No. I am talking about the one which the esteemed Professor McGonagall told you about."

"Ah. Draco Malfoy."

"Yes. That claim, unlike the one claimed off Hermione, contained a 'penalty of death' clause. Draco violated it."

The three words, "Draco violated it", hung between them, culminating in a protracted silence. David couldn't think of anything to say. Harry was sure that David was mentally calling him a monster, or a murder. He waited for the shoe to drop.

David took a deep breath. Even though he had several conflicting guesses and thoughts filling his head, he could also see in Harry's eyes the same things that his wife had seen. Soon after Sirius' exoneration, he and Amelia had talked to the Grangers. Both couples had realised that there was more than justice and a need to protect at play. Sirius knew everything, and Amelia had a vague idea, and they needed to get Harry help before he went off the deep end as they both feared he would. It was why they had sought out the Grangers who, as doctors had contacts with various healthcare specialists, and had found a proper therapist, Dr. Maria McCraig, who knew about magic, and also because they were the ones to raise the matter regarding getting Harry help the first time they visited The Marauders' Place. She was, in fact, the woman they had taken Hermione to, to help them understand what they now knew to be accidental magic. It was also why they were not so scared when the funny little man had first come to them to explain magic and tell them about Hermione being a witch.

David had to say something that Harry would take positively, something that would give Harry the illusion of that David at least understood – if not accepted – what had happened, lest the boy become defensive and clam up. "This was the same person who kept racially abusing Hermione, whose father set that snake onto a school, and who had gone so far as to threaten Hermione with Death, I take it?"

"Yes sir."

"I see. What else happened?"

"Well you know about Sirius' exoneration, obviously. That Debt claim was the proverbial pebble which started the avalanche. Do you remember me telling you about the Death Eater supremacist scum? Draco's father – even in the face of certain execution, bless his little socks – held up his end of the bargain. He gave up every tiny bit of information. I am not even sure about the number of Death Eaters that have been executed, though I know that Peter Pettigrew, my parents' betrayer, was killed. I watched him die. It was...I can't really describe it. I felt a sort of happy relief."

"And what about Snape?" asked David. He knew about it.

"I killed him in a duel. It was a blood feud by the House of Potter against the House of Prince for the murder of Lord Charlus, Lord-elect James, and Lady-in-waiting Lily. It would have been me killing him, or Neville killing him or him being executed. I relished the duel, really." He then levelled a neutral gaze at David. "I know why you are asking this, sir. Please understand that every single person who bears that mark _**has**_ to be killed for Voldemort to die. I was only hastening a few along the way."

"I am not judging you Harry. God knows," he said with a sigh, "that even though I don't like the fact that you were the one that had to dislodge the pebble, whatever is going on will eventually work to protect Hermione. No. My worry with you is that you keep everything inside..."

"I don't...!"

"I know about the shouting, screaming, guilt-tripping and other forms of verbal manipulation that you have been using, Harry," David interrupted firmly. "That is not what I mean."

"I am not..." Harry started to protest.

"Harry, would you say that Hermione is a fairly intelligent young lady?"

If Harry was stumped by the non-sequitur he didn't show it. "Yes sir."

"Would you agree that to successfully complete a demanding course, such as healthcare, I would need a modicum of intelligence?"

"Yes," replied Harry, unable to understand where the conversation was heading to.

"Then believe me, I find _**my**_ intelligence very much insulted by your protests. Again, I will say it. You are keeping everything inside."

"Sir, I am absolutely unsure what to say," Harry replied exasperatedly. "I have told Hermione everything."

"Yes. She mentioned that you have a secret which you divulged to her. Again, letting someone in on a secret is not talking."

Now Harry was getting frustrated and felt completely out of the loop. Getting angry at Hermione's father though was the last thing to do. So he let his frustration, exasperation and puzzlement show.

"What I am trying to say, Harry, is that I am trained to spot abuse. I won't mince words. I don't know the extent, but you are an abused kid. I also know how you are treated in that world, like every situation that you get embroiled in is an inverter with a feedback. You aren't treated one day the way you were yesterday and everything is always taken to extremes. You are confused and torn."

Harry froze. David Granger was not a person to be trifled with. Somehow the man was hitting the bull's eye. What if he guessed at the secret, as Amelia had done? Perhaps a memory charm would be needed? That shook Harry to the very core as he cringed at his thoughts.

David seemed to have realised that Harry was getting scared. "Look, Harry. Circumstances till now haven't been very kind to you. Hermione told me that you have mastered something called Occlumency. The way she explained it, it seems to be more of a way to hide a part of yourself than something helpful, really. You are only controlling yourself Harry. You are not understanding or expressing yourself. No. Let me rephrase that," David corrected himself. "You have tremendous hatred for those Death Eaters. You have learnt to express it. I don't know you much, Harry, beyond what Hermione has told us. But what I have inferred is that in the past two years, you haven't let hatred define you. Yet, if I am right, due to your childhood, it is the only emotion you have learnt to express."

Harry gulped noisily. David gave a grim smile. "Don't let hatred define you, Harry. It will stunt you as a person."

"I...I will think about it sir," Harry promised.

"That's all I wanted. Don't think that you have to obey me or anything, but think about it," David countered with a smile and a grip to Harry's shoulder.

"That apart, how have things been?"

The change of topic was deliberate, and both knew it. But there was no point harping on about something once the topic had been adequately addressed for the time being. And David knew better than to expect immediate results. More often than not, such cases took several months of work. The cues in the boy's body language had told him that things were as he and Jean had suspected. Harry was not acting out of confidence. He wasn't the best person to diagnose the problems, but he was pretty sure there was one – a big one. Asking too many related questions now would make him clam up.

"Rather well, Dr. Granger," Harry replied. "I am currently looking for someone to teach me sailing and captaining a ship?" If David wanted to change the subject, Harry would give him a massive change of subject.

"Ships, Harry?" David asked in surprise.

"Yes sir. I have somehow managed to inherit fifteen sailing ships from Salazar Slytherin. The man was a water-elemental, apparently. He wasn't what the history books made him out to be, but between his nautical and ophidian obsessions, he was most assuredly a barmy old man."

David's eyes grew as large as galleons – the coins, not the ships. "Will you show me?" he almost begged with unrestrained enthusiasm. "I always wanted to go sail on a ship like the ones of old!"

"Sure, sir," Harry replied with a smile. Even though he didn't know what to do with the ships, he still had always wanted to see the sea ever since the Dursleys had gone on vacation to the Caribbean and had shown him the photographs just to rub the fact that he wasn't one of them in. With the real zeal that David showed for the ships, so similar to Hermione's eagerness for books, Harry had also something that he could connect with the man.

"The Herpetarium is up near Whitehaven. It's beautiful, even if someone who is scared of snakes might find it creepy. Salazar designed it himself. You wouldn't believe the place. And it has got an underwater dock to set sail from, just like Jules Verne had at the Mysterious Island. He set all the ships into bottles. We just have to place the bottles on water and BAM! We have a ship to set sail in!"

"The homeport of the Nautilus," breathed David. "You aren't kidding, are you? You really have ships?"

"I do, absolutely."

"And I can see them?"

"Yes. In fact if we can find someone to guide us, I very much want to learn to sail. You could too."

"Count me in!"

Harry had never thought that behind the stern dentist was a little boy excited to see ships.

"Summer, then?"

"Yes!"

"In spite of the World Cup in the USA?"

That brought up David short with a very pained expression. "Was it so necessary to remind me of that?" he moaned. England had just lost out on the qualifications to the Dutch back in October. It was still painful. "I would rather talk about the Flying Dutchman that you may own instead."

He only received a commiserating look in response.

* * *

A little while later, as the music started, Harry approached Hermione. She was looking every bit as beautiful as she did at the Yule Ball. It made him feel inadequate. She was dressed in a bright red gown that fit her just too well. And then it made him feel ashamed that he was eyeing up his best friend (even though he hadn't really behaved as one), never mind the fact that she was supposedly his soul mate. He looked around in bewilderment to where Sirius and Amelia, Ted and Andromeda, and David and Jean as well as the various guests were dancing. He sorely wanted to ask Hermione. And he was completely unsure as to how he was supposed to do that. Damn Cassiopeia for never teaching him this basic survival skill!

Remus was watching the cub after his dance with the lovely, unattached Ms. Tonks. Never had Harry looked more lost than at that moment. He was sneaking glances at Hermione, then at the dancing couples around them, then at himself, clearly finding an absence of the requisite courage to ask her. It needed some Marauder action.

"Come here cub," Remus commanded softly as he shepherded Harry away to a corner. He discreetly conjured a yellow rose, and handed it to Harry. "I know that you are scared, but do me, yourself and Hermione a favour and just go and ask her, alright?"

Harry gulped and looked at Remus. There had to be some rider to this. Remus was too much of a Marauder to let this go.

Remus smelled Harry's suspicions. "No, cub. Just do it. Marauder's Honour!"

Harry scurried away. The elders were becoming too perceptive all of a sudden. He could swear that he heard Remus sniggering as he left. He cautiously approached Hermione, unconsciously treating her like a bomb that could go off at any moment.

"Ms. Gran- Ms. Granger may I-I have the honour of this dance?" he asked with a parched throat. Hermione had to stifle her giggles at Harry's completely un-Gryffindorish behaviour while beating down a blush at the same time.

"You may, kind sir." She placed a hand on top of his, causing him to stiffen slightly, before he started to lead her to the floor. Then he stopped.

"Hermione? Is there a place where we will not be seen, just for a moment?"

"Wha-? Harry James Potter, tell me you didn't mean that!" Hermione went bright red at what she thought Harry was asking of her.

Harry looked at her in puzzlement before going bright red himself. "No! No, nothing like that! I just want to cast numbing charms on your feet! I-I am not good at dancing..." He then felt even more nervous.

Hermione could have laughed. This was just the real Harry that she had known before.

As he applied the charms, Harry put his foot into his mouth once again when he stated quite simply, "You have very cute feet." Then realising what that sounded like he looked back at Hermione with ever-increasing nervousness. When she didn't speak either, he just said, "Bloody hell! Just forget I ever said that!" Hermione was too busy imitating a goldfish to scold Harry for swearing.

They danced an awkward dance, because Harry was really scared that he would do something inappropriate. He had never feared anything – even the basilisk – as much as he feared the whole dancing ritual. Hermione on her part, found the whole thing very funny. It had taken the dance to bring forth the real, sometimes bumbling, nervous Harry.

When the song finally ended, Harry gave a very audible sigh of relief – till Hermione gave Sirius lots of ammunition by giving him a peck on the cheek. And then he turned around to see a smirking set of family members. Now he was done for.

* * *

It was a tired but happy family that returned to the Marauders' Place. Sleep did not come easy to Harry, however. Was he really - ? There was no question; he absolutely was going the wrong way. Within a period of two days, Luna and then David Granger had cautioned him. What was he doing wrong?

With what he did to Ginny, and the Knockturn Alley before that, anyone would classify him as a Dark Lord. How could he have done that? Fenrir Greyback's death did not rationalise the utter devastation he had wrought with one spell. Dark creatures had – that was bloody wrong! He was using a ministry classification. Wouldn't Moony be something similar too? But it was Greyback!

And Ginny! Her actions in the other timeline were not reason enough to do what he did to her, never mind the fact that it helped her. What if it had driven her insane? To them all, he was the boy they had rescued from a jail. He clutched at the green jumper with the golden H on it, his usual gift from Mrs. Weasley. His anger at some actions which had never happened as far as the people around him were concerned had made him take some very reprehensible steps.

Then there was Hermione. They may not always agree, but he had no business lashing out at her. She wanted him to recognise that he should have given Draco a chance. He didn't agree with her. But he had been a git to her over the matter. In her eyes, Draco was a boy – just as he had been for the seventeen year old Hermione who refused to believe that the Slytherin ponce was a Death Eater. This Hermione was even more innocent, at fourteen. The way he saw it, Draco, after his father's death, would have been a wounded animal. What if, even at the cost of his death, he had hurt the people close to Harry? No. Harry was convinced. His death was for the Greater -?

Harry stopped that train of thoughts right there. What was wrong with him? He was rationalising a death, even though he felt no remorse for it, really, by saying that it was for the Greater Good. He hated Dumbledore's hypocrisy. What did that make him? Draco was a hostile, cleanly, efficiently and legally taken out. He was going to leave it at that. He was responsible for the boy's death, but he wasn't guilty of it.

He really hated it all. The secrets, the anger, the fear, everything. Sirius, who had given him the deeds to the Riddle House as a part of his gift, certainly had the right idea. This Voldemort was a bloody inconvenience. He was the root of all evil in Harry's life.

Harry tossed his conflicting thoughts back and forth as he succumbed to troubled slumber.

* * *

The party at the Fawleys' on the 27th was Harry's first experience with a social function in the political circles. He was nervous. He was known as many things, really. The Head of Houses was only a new addition that people should have expected anyway. They knew of his aggressive stand against the Death Eaters, they knew of his expected votes upon Bills through his proxies, they knew that he was one of The Nation. But nobody really knew him.

And as far as the socio-political presence went, he was the debutante of the day, so he would be closely observed and scrutinised, according to Sirius.

He would have to be at his best behaviour, commanding respect, for he was not an Heir that would be a credit to his House, but the Lord and Head of Houses, and would be expected to be the force to reckon with. For all that he projected confidence all the time, crowds where he would be the centre of attention still scared him.

"Lord Potter, please accept our offer of hospitality. We wish you peace, succour and joy under our roof," intoned Lord Scott Fawley respectfully.

Harry did not immediately accept the welcome. If he was to make an entrance, he would have to make sure that something important and useful was obtained from the whole scene.

"Before I accept your welcome, Lord Fawley, please accept my oath." Fawley was unsure what was happening, but nodded.

"I, Hadrian James Potter, Lord of the Houses of Potter, Peverell, Gryffindor and Slytherin, swear on my life and magic that I am one and the same as my stated identity. Further, I truly promise that I come in peace and mean the House of Fawley and its guests no harm, except in self-defence should the situation so arise. So I truly swear! Lumos! Nox!"

That done, his expression relaxed, and he gave Lord Fawley a short nod/bow. "I thank you for your hospitality, and wish you and your family, health, wealth and peace as well as success in your endeavours." He handed over a package containing six quick release wand holsters with anti-summoning charms.

It took a long moment for Lord Fawley to gather himself. "Thank you my Lord." He had to ask the question that was troubling him, though. "Was it really necessary to give the oath, My Lord?"

Most of the guests were staring at Harry, and conversation had ebbed almost completely. He danced a jig internally. This was just what he wanted.

"Yes, Lord Fawley, it was. You do not know me well enough to ask me questions that would help verify my identity. As we now know, the Dark One has not exited the realm of the mortals. The DMLE and the DoM have advised us all to take the precautions that had been employed during the last war. It was then my duty to assure you that you are not, inadvertently, hosting a Death Eater in disguise." Looking at the thoughtful frowns on the faces of many, Harry pinched them all where it hurt, verbally. "It would seem that the very real threat that the Ministry let run unchecked before the change in the leadership at the DMLE just a year ago, is being very conveniently ignored."

The implication was clear. Amelia Bones was the driving force behind the new steps being taken to protect them all. That did not mean that it was solely her and her Aurors' responsibility. The people would have to stand up and take the necessary measures as well.

People had flinched when Harry mentioned the disguised elephant in the room that everyone had skirted around for so long that they still ignoring it. When Sirius, Amelia and Susan followed Harry through the floo and then in giving their oaths, it put the ball firmly in the court of everyone around them.

Breaking the oppressive silence that now threatened to cast a pall of gloom on the celebrations, Lord Fawley steered him around, introducing him to people. There was Marcus Belby, Damocles' nephew, whom he had met when Slughorn started collecting people in his sixth year. In a corner were the pompous McLaggen family, the youngest Fawley was talking to Michael Corner and his little sister Gertrude. There was the enchantress Cecilia Lambert, and her husband William Lambert, the famous magical playwright. Small talk did not come naturally to him, but someone (Sirius or Amelia or Augusta) was often around to shore things up.

After the introductions and people-hopping was done, he finally thought that he had a chance to mingle with people his own age, when he was accosted by Clan Chief Ernest McMillan, smack bang amidst a group of allies.

"My Lord Potter," the man addressed him, just as pompously as his grandson.

"Clan Chief McMillan," acknowledged Harry, with a carefully blank face. He had observed that Ernie McMillan was not around.

"How are you this fine evening?"

"Quite well, and well fed, Clan Chief, thank you. How are you?"

"Very fine, very fine indeed!" Something about the man's manner put Harry on notice. Clan Chief McMillan was...fidgety, would be the word perhaps. "I have a request, My Lord."

Yes. Clan Chief McMillan was up to something. With the formal appellations and all that, if the man was not asking for a private audience, he was up to something that Harry wouldn't find terribly agreeable.

"Yes, Clan Chief?"

"I hope you remember that the Clan of McMillan owes a Life Debt to yourself, Lord Potter."

"I do. I have recently become very well acquainted with my families' history, Clan Chief."

The man paled considerably. Having learnt the unfiltered history of his family from Goldhaul's overview, Harry had set Sirius upon the task of finding out any debts of life, honour or otherwise, owed to any family by the Potters, Gryffindors, Peverells or the Slytherins. There were a few debts monetarily accrued by the Slytherins and the Peverells, which had since been repaid. There was one debt of honour owed by the Gryffindors to the family of Helga Hufflepuff, which was why Harry was, as soon as he could, going to search for any surviving Heirs of Hufflepuff.

The Potters, however, had been very wicked sons of the devil. They had ensured that any debt they owed was always repaid in their own lifetimes. Just to ensure, however, that they would not be manipulated or subjugated in anyway, they had kept the practice of accumulating debts owed _**to**_ them. For the family with very dark origins, it had been a very useful currency.

It was just like the marriage contracts – there wasn't a single one that was blood signed, which was good for several reasons, the misuse of the blood and the fact that the contracts to make them beholden to someone being the chief among them.

These debts owed were always logged and relayed from father to son. It was what had allowed them to be one of the really old lines that hadn't died out in the male line. Thrice a prospective murderer of the Heir or an Heirless young Lord of the family had been stopped by calling in the debts of generations gone by, and twice, the attacks had been overturned and used to subjugate the violator. Sometimes, the debts were used to ensure that the family gained in some way. The Potters had not always been the nicest of people, but they most certainly had never been foolish.

It was what Harry intended to do with the debts that everyone at Hogwarts as of the 29th of May 1993, barring of course, Hermione (whose debt was used for her protection) and Draco (whose debt was used to kill him). Neville, who had been named as the Heir of the House of Potter, and also was one of the few who had stood with Harry during the Chamber fiasco, had had his debt fulfilled when he had been tasked with landscaping The Marauders' Place. Alexandria Turnbull, who had apologised sincerely, too had the debt called.

Ernie, however, didn't fall in that category. Unfortunately for the Clan, there was a debt of honour and an outstanding debt of funds owed to the Potters, never mind the life debt Ernie had accrued.

That, actually, hadn't been the original plan. Harry hadn't liked the idea to use the debts as weapons against anyone but the future DEs, at all. But Hermione had insisted that it was the correct thing to do, in spite of the debt being claimed from her. They had had a small argument over it, till Hermione had pointed out that calling in the debts was akin to forgiving. He could, if he was convinced of the sincerity of an apology by an ally, call the debt. Otherwise, it was just like forgiving Ron after the first task. That had destroyed his defence.

At that moment, he was thanking the heavens that he had listened to Hermione. She had given him the perfect solution to control wayward allies.

And he was also thinking about begging her mercy and grovelling at her feet for making her cry, as Luna had later told him he had done. He knew that the Little Moon had intervened and had told her some facts, which had told the bushy-haired witch more about the magical society than the books. But Luna had also given him the first thrashing when he had made Hermione cry. It made him feel very bad. It was interesting. He felt nothing about disagreeing with her, or about the deaths he had caused. But hurting her wilfully with the worst thing he could have said to her, even if it was what he felt she was behaving like, caused him real pain.

He shook his head to ward off the wandering train of thoughts; he had a major matter at hand to take care of.

"Yes well, about that, I would formally request you to claim it. It would not do for such a matter to remain outstanding between allies, would it?" asked the Clan Chief. He then looked around. Most of the allies were converging into the general area. His idea was to corner the boy with delusions of adequacy and pressurise him into ceding the debt.

"Allies, you say," Harry retorted silkily, but in a way that it almost came across as if he was in thought.

"Yes, My Lord."

"And how exactly are we allies, Clan Chief?" Harry asked almost inquisitively.

The three elders had started moving towards the small crowd as soon as Sirius had seen through McMillan's plan. He, however, stopped when he saw the particular glint in Pup's eyes. Sirius just sighed. Pup was going to pull a 'Prongs' again.

McMillan stifled a smile. The boy was still a greenhorn. He was yet to understand that allies could be just as dangerous as enemies.

"Our families have fought together in the years of old, Lord Potter..."

"No, no, no. You misunderstand me, Clan Chief. Let me lead you towards the matter, then. Please correct me if I am wrong; after all I am new to all this," Harry replied in a carefully light tone, waving a hand in around him to elaborate the 'all this' part. "According to what I have been taught about alliances, they are based on trust, are they not?"

McMillan stopped and considered the matter carefully. Something seemed off. Still he had to answer this. He had started the matter, and now he couldn't stand back.

"Yes, of course, Lord Potter."

"Very well," nodded Harry. "Are alliances affirmed by upholding the duties each House has towards the other? Do allies provide support during adversities?"

This was somehow slipping away, McMillan recognised. "Yes, My Lord."

"Do allies work together?"

"Yes."

"Do allies impugn the honour of each others' Houses, Lords or Heirs?"

"No, My Lord."

"Do allies make false accusations against each other? Do allies seek to resolve matters in an honourable way, should any of the infractions I asked you about, occur? Do they tender an unconditional apology?"

McMillan gulped. Not so much of a greenhorn, then. "Do you have any grievances against my Clan, My Lord?"

"I am asking very simple questions, at the moment, Clan Chief. As for any grievance, you certainly do seem to have one. Please oblige me, by answering my questions, sir."

McMillan gritted his teeth. This wasn't how he had envisioned things. He had even accounted for the meddling by Bones, Longbottom or Black. "No, My Lord."

The people around realised that the trap had been reversed. McMillan had been the one to start the politicking at a Christmas party, but it would be The Potter who would end it.

"Indeed." Harry once again relapsed into a thoughtful stance. "Then, for quite some time, can we really, truly, say that we have been allies?" The tone of frank curiosity made the question ambiguous.

People around them choked on their respective libations.

"My Lord?" McMillan's throat had gone dry. The Potter-owned businesses were important clients. This could destroy him. Worse than that, whatever had happened could make Potter call him dishonourable, reducing his standing with his allies.

"Clan Chief?"

"My Lord, I hope this situation can be resolved in privacy."

"Why?"

"What?"

"Why sir, would I want things to be privately resolved? What outstanding matters need to be resolved?"

"But you said that we weren't allies!"

"When did I say that?"

"Then there are matters to be resolved. You have some grievance against my Clan! We can talk over things!"

"You are the one who has admitted that, Clan Chief," Harry replied with much condescension. "Would you be so kind as to explain the grievances you think I have?"

Someone in the crowd disguised a snort as a cough. McMillan's face was flushed.

"Please, Clan Chief?"

This was really humiliating for the sexagenarian. He had gambled by underestimating the boy and lost. "My Lord..." he started with a pleading tone. He turned to Amelia, hoping to get her to control the boy. "What do you say, Lady Bones?"

"That is very rude, is it not, Clan Chief? Unilaterally seeking intervention is not something that allies do," reprimanded Harry affably.

Suddenly dropping his easy-going manner, he assumed the 'Wizengamot' mien. "Clan Chief, I do not know what you were playing at, but I am, frankly speaking, very much vexed and embarrassed by this display by an ally. You were not very subtle in your attempts to corner and corral me into ceding the debt by catching me unawares during a party which was supposed to be a get-together between friends and colleagues from the Wizengamot. When your ploy was overturned, you dishonour me further by not _**accepting, enumerating, realising**_ _**and evaluating**_ the transgressions by your Clan against me and my Houses that you have admitted have occurred. You _**say**_ that there are outstanding issues. Are you sure what those are?"

The chastisement was salt on McMillan's wounds. He refused to speak.

"Ernest?" Reginald Dearborn called out to his friend softly.

Squaring his shoulders, McMillan looked Harry in the eye. There were two expected ways to react. One was to put the ball back into Harry's court and ask him how he was offended. The second was accepting and understanding. Ernest McMillan chose the third.

"My Lord Potter, I shall deal with any transgressions on the part of my Clan members against you, and your Houses. I must submit to not knowing the offences so far, but I offer oath that I shall not go easy on anyone who has risked our alliance."

It was the middle path.

"Please understand, Clan Chief that I am not, under any circumstances, going to renege on the oath of my ancestors to stand with you in matters of beliefs and policy as far as I can, and in battle with my wand, and sword. Last year, I was about as ignorant of my Houses as a newborn babe as I was raised by people either incapable of explaining all this to me or just as ignorant as I was, seeing as they are mundane. Indeed, I was as intimidated by this new world as any newblood. What was not foreign, even then, was the concept of honour. Your grandson actively disparaged me as the Heir of Slytherin – not as I am now, by conquest, but as the one attacking and intent on murdering newbloods, because I am a Parselmouth. It took me almost losing someone _**very**_ close to my heart," here he paused with a pained look, for even now, Hermione's petrifaction was painful, "and very dear to me, before people started suspecting that it mightn't be me. As a member of a Clan that is an ally, was it not his duty to first investigate? Am I supposed to accept that he did not know of the alliance? Before I am accused of being heartless, let me assure you that another heir among the allies has apologised sincerely and since has had her debt called.

"Just to put things in the clear, even those among the allies of my forefathers accused me of being a murderer. I am sorry, but neither as a human, nor as one of The Nation, is such a situation acceptable.

"He has attempted to befriend me during the past months, yes, but this debt that you ask me to cede as a matter of alliance, which has been dishonoured by him, shall stay. I apologise to you for any offence it may cause you, but I ask you, how I could or would trust after that?"

The last sentence sealed the deal. The message was clear. The House of Potter would not abandon an ally, but the ally wouldn't be easily trusted any longer. It took barely five minutes for the whole situation to unfold, and beyond the small crowd, nobody would even know or remember, but its repercussions would last for generations.

The crowd broke away, with Lord Dearborn talking to the Clan Chief. Harry did not stay there. He saw Susan, Neville and Alexandria standing with Patricia Fawley, Astoria and Daphne Greengrass and Camellia Gamp, as well as two other boys, one seemingly a few years older than him, and the other looked to be around nine or ten.

"What was it?" asked Neville, as he saw Harry approaching with a frown lit upon his face and therefore walked to his friend.

Harry shook his head. "Politicking," he muttered. "You are one lucky git. You've got Gran to talk on your part."

"It's not as if Sirius or Amelia wouldn't speak," Neville chided.

"Not when it comes to the Houses under me, mate," Harry pointed out. "They can guide me, but I am accountable."

"Ah."

They reached the table, where they greeted the girls and Harry was introduced to Michael Greengrass, Heir to the Ancient and Noble House, and his little brother James. They had been in contact since the Wizengamot session on the Equinox.

Michael had been the one who was putting quill to parchment apart from the contact that the House of Greengrass was engaging in. He was intrigued by what Harry had told his father about the mundane world, and was interested in learning more. The elder Greengrass brother – Lord Cygnus Greengrass – was probably Slughorn's hero, in that he seemed to have contacts with everybody in the magical world. He also owned the business that manufactured construction materials, ward stones and the like. Michael, however, was more interested in education. The idea of the Universities caught his fancy. Given that the Jean Granger was also a distant Greengrass cousin, so his own exploration into the matter was being directed through her. The twenty year old was now looking to bring that system into and appropriate it for the magical world.

Over the months, Harry was sure that the two could call each other friends, at a certain level. Now he had a face to associate with the person. He looked as much like Cygnus as Harry resembled James Potter.

"Lord Potter," Michael correctly assumed.

"Heir Greengrass," Harry identified him in turn with a nod.

"Oh, call me Michael, really. I am not particularly pleased with the stuffiness," Michael stated.

"Oh thank Merlin!" Harry sighed melodramatically. "I've finally found someone who finds these Victorian manners stuffy!"

"Of course," Michael drawled. "Not very becoming of a Lord, all this whinging, you know, My Lord?" Then he decided that he had adhered to the stuffiness long enough and started sniggering.

"You two know each other?" Daphne asked her cousin.

"Oh yes, we do. I've been writing to him independently, apart from Father's House business letters. He was the one who introduced me to Cousin Jean."

"Huh," muttered Daphne. "Directly approaching the Lord, Heir and my father, Potter? One would think you have business interests."

"I admit nothing," Harry quipped back with splayed hands.

"Nor do you deny it," Susan ribbed him. "Not to mention that you used to think of..." she started with a devilish smirk between Harry and Daphne, but stopped when Harry leant close for a whisper.

"How many hearts did you draw around Cedric Diggory's name today, dear sister?"

"Eep!"

"What were you saying, Bones?"

"Things that I should keep quiet about," Susan replied with a very red face and a scowl at Harry.

If the others found things suspicious, they said nothing.

"So how go your investigations regarding the University, Michael?"

This sparked a frisson of enthusiasm in the Greengrass Heir. "I have just started understanding the structure and the organisation of the institutions. We can't really have things directly, if we were to implement that idea, really." He went on to explain his vision regarding the magical University which would aim towards higher education. The thirst for knowledge in Hermione, Harry realised, certainly came from her mother. Michael went onto a long explanation, talking animatedly, seemingly with an infinite lung capacity. The others could only nod or speak something in agreement every once in a while. Michel was on a roll.

It was just like Hermione did when she started talking about something she found genuinely interesting. In Michael, it was slightly scary. In Hermione, it was very endearing. He exchanged a glance with Neville, who was evidently thinking on the same lines, if the latter's smirk was anything to go by.

They were interrupted when Sirius came along to remind Harry that it was time to go. The 27th was a full moon, and they weren't going to leave Moony alone. Taking their leave Sirius and Harry were about to leave, when they were accosted by Fawley, Dearborn and Edgbaston walking towards them with Fudge. The grimaces on the faces of both were seen by all the Heirs. They were already late and this ponce was the last person they wanted to see.

"My Lord Black, allow me to introduce you to Minister Fudge."

"Fudge," Sirius acknowledged in a pained way with a sneer.

"My Lord Black," Fudge started pompously. "We got off on the wrong foot he last time we met..."

It was now close to nine thirty, and Moony was possibly seconds away from his transformation. For a werewolf with a pack, not being able to sense the pack during the transformation caused a lot of confusion which led to inadvertent self-mutilation if the wolf was in an enclosed space, or violence if it met any obstacle as it tried to move around to find out its friends. Sirius moved off to get Amelia. She would be able to explain their sudden departure properly to Lord Fawley.

"Wrong foot?" snarled Harry. "Damn your wrong foot, Fudge. We have a more important person than you needing our presence!"

Fudge blanched at the sudden vitriol. "Now, My Lord Potter, surely you could spare me a few minutes as the Minister! I have important things to say..."

"Bloody f-ing hell! Damn you, man! I said we don't have time for you! And shove your Ministerial position somewhere unmentionable!"

"Now see here!" Fudge started indignantly, his portly girth blocking the way.

Harry had had enough. He wanted to get to Moony and this...man was an obstacle, attempting to save his arse with politicking at the wrong time. "I am sorry about this Lord Fawley," he growled in apology to his host.

"I, Hadrian James Potter, hereby unequivocally state that the Houses of Potter, Peverell, Gryffindor and Slytherin have lost confidence in the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Oswald Fudge, and no longer support his tenure! So I have stated!" The stunning suddenness of the proclamation had shocked not only Fudge but also everyone else.

"My Lord!" protested Fudge.

Harry then snarled at the man. "Did I not tell you to shove off, you poncy git? I told you to not stop me right now! But no! Fudge has to prove that he can sit his dirty arse down in the chair come what may! Even if that means that he had to be Lucius Bloody Malfoy's bootlicker! Now you are looking at the Blacks, are you? Well, here's your answer, HELL NO!"

Harry's sudden temper had shocked everyone around. Normally, all things said and done, he was slow to anger and very articulate. Well, at least that was true only as far as his public appearances went. At that moment he was competing with a sailor.

"Bloody Minister who betrayed England by pushing in Malfoy and his cronies' policies! I am not going to see here or listen now or whatever that you wish me to do. Bugger off, useless!"

"Come on Harry," Sirius commanded, shepherding his irate son before he did something even more stupid than practically firing the Minister of Magic during a party. "Leave the idiot alone. He doesn't care for other people and their legitimate priorities, just his own coffers and votes."

Gazing directly at the broken man, Sirius decided that he had to support Harry. "I, Sirius Orion Black, unequivocally state that the House of Black has lost confidence in the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Oswald Fudge, and no longer supports his tenure! So I have stated!"

Fudge staggered into a chair with a completely lost expression.

Amelia, who by then had realised what had happened, stopped the two men with hands on their shoulders. "Go. I will handle it."

As Harry rushed off through the floo, Fudge was left facing a hall full of people who had just found out exactly which politician's star had waned.

The Heirs Harry had just been with were slightly flummoxed by the sudden change. Susan looked at the retreating figures of her Uncle-to-be and his son, before grinning and exclaiming, "Priceless!" It had the effect of causing the stunned hall to crack up ever so slightly.

* * *

Nothing, absolutely nothing, screamed 'NORMAL' in England more than the tradition of football over the festive period. The throngs of supporters (and hooligans also) that have always attended the matches have rendered the tradition, which is so unique to England among the European Leagues, a position of pride.

For Neville, this was a taste of real 'muggle life'. The tickets, the turnstiles, the throngs of supporters and their chants, the impromptu gatherings in the pub outside the stadium on the 29th of December, 1993 constituted an experience that was completely surreal for him. Twenty seven thousand odd people were attending one match – one league match. That was about fifteen thousand more people than had attended the 421st Quidditch World Cup Finals in Sri Lanka. And that was a relatively poor turnout for the thirty eight and half thousand-seater stadium. It was atmosphere unlike any other.

He has attended the Quidditch matches at school, and even some League matches – particularly those of the Appleby Arrows – with his Uncle Algie. But there was always a stilted kind of mood there. The most that the stadiums could seat for a game that had fourteen players and four balls was a measly six thousand. The chants were mostly based on the players' names, or sometimes, the teams'. But even there the mores of the overtly polite society of the magicals more often than not threatened to suck the fun out of the spectacle.

Here everything was different. The home team's supporters – the loyal Gooners of Arsenal, had decided to amp up the scenario with friendly rivalries between the Clock End (where they were seated) and the other stands. Even during the slightly lull periods during the match, the noise levels were high enough to scare him a little, at first.

"We're the North Bank,

We're the North Bank,

We're the North Bank, Highbury!" was instantly met with the response of,

"We're the Clock End,

We're the Clock End,

We're the Clock End, Highbury!"

Neville never even realised as he himself started shouting back in right earnest along with his fellow spectators.

Even as they (Remus, Sirius, Harry and Neville; the ladies had outright refused, while Ted, as a Manchester United supporter, refused to have anything to do with the match) had walked to the stadium from the London Home of the Blacks, No. 12 Grimmauld Place in the Borough of Islington clad in winter clothes that Sirius had charmed to show the Club's colours, they would come upon supporters in their hats and scarves every so often. Fathers and sons, groups of friends, even ladies (a shock to Neville's system; The Holyhead Harpies were accepted as players, but Ladies among the spectators, unless formally invited were a rare spectacle) in their gaggles, thronged through the streets, or came through the Gillespie Road Station. Sirius, in his exuberance, would respond to the calls of complete strangers with ' **1-0 TO THE ARSENAL** ' at the top of his voice. Then there was the baiting of all Spurs supporters, just for the lark, another tradition in the eternal quest for bragging rights in North London, even though the match wasn't against them. Who would have expected that of Lord Black?

Neville looked behind him to see Professor Lupin, or Remus or Moony, as he had learnt to call him outside of school. The full moon had been only two nights prior. By rights the man had to be tired beyond belief. Yet, here he was, completely at home, cheering the 11th minute Kevin Campbell goal, the first of his brace. He even cussed up a storm when there was a bad miss, a massive deviation for the sophisticated professor. Who in the stadium cared that there was a werewolf beside them as they cheered? The stress lines and scars had been replaced by a wide smile and unbelievably animated facial expressions, something that showed the man in a completely different light.

Sirius had shown the sort of penchant for statistics and obscure facts about the club that he had come to associate with Ron's fanaticism for the Chudley Cannons, and Hermione's for _**Hogwarts: A History**_. Who cared that the man was one of the movers and shakers in the political arena of the magical community, or that barely six months ago he had been one of the most feared escaped convicts with the law-enforcement agencies in both worlds after him?

To Remus' side was Harry. Neville was absolutely sure that this was the first time Harry was watching anything as a spectator. The mug-; no he wasn't going to think of that. They meant nothing. But even at school, Harry had never watched a Quidditch match of a team that he supported. Watching a match between other with mathematical connotations with regard to the next match he would play or to understand their tactics was not really the experience of a spectator. At that moment however, Harry was soaking in the atmosphere with childlike glee and wide-eyed wonder. Who cared that this was the Boy-Who-Lived, the one who had almost single-handedly brought an entire faction of the political spectrum to its knees, who had killed a man in a duel unto death, virtually fired their Head of the Government and ensured that a clan would, for several generations, be viewed with suspicion because they impugned his honour? Who cared that he had probably travelled through time?

He found himself being hugged by a complete stranger when Ian Wright struck just five minutes before half-time. He found himself cheering David Seaman's long balls, the resolute defence by Messrs Adams, Bould, Winterburn and Dixon. It was a feeling of complete freedom, of emancipation from the rules he had been brought up to follow, where even applause and cheering had to be polite. Who cared that this was his first experience with a congregation of this scale? Who cared that he was magical? Who cared that he was to help arrest and/or fight against a man who had helped destroy his family, the following day?

He came to a wonderful conclusion just before the first half concluded. The tussle between two teams of eleven men for the control over one ball evoked such passion among the supporters, such emotion, such absolute wear-the-heart-on-your-sleeve moments that it was magic in and of itself. Where else would you get a _**collective**_ moan of dismay like the one that was elicited from the supporters on hitting the crossbar? Where else would you get the _**collective**_ hiss of appreciation like the one garnered for an excellent through-ball? Even his last experience with mass celebration was that of the Gryffindor tables upon winning the House Cup and for the news regarding the revival of the petrified people. That was a mourning silence compared to the celebration for the wonderful curler that Wright sent past Kelly.

It was one of the greatest and most enthralling experiences Neville had had, he mused, as he still chanted, '3-0 to the Arsenal!', over and over again in a hoarse voice, having yelled his head off when Campbell rounded off the points with a 55th minute strike. He hadn't decided whether he had acquired the taste for the club, yet. But he had certainly found succour in the atmosphere.

He had read James Shirley's poem that made Death out to be the great leveller from a book that his Uncle Caradoc's wife had given him. Shirley, he realised, had probably never been to a football match.

* * *

This Chapter was written on St. Totteringham's Day.


	41. Chapter 41

**Crouching Criminal, Swiping Bear**

On the 30th, Harry apparated and went off to Gringotts. The Nation didn't celebrate the Christmas or the New Year's. Instead they shared beliefs with the ancient Romans. They had chosen Mars, the Harbinger of Wars, as their most important God. All the same Harry had brought them some gifts.

"Goldhaul, Rubyclaw, Hightab, Biggem, I wish you the best on occasion of Yuletide. I bring gifts to commemorate the Human festivities."

The four elderly Garnarukran were very appreciative of the thought. They were even more appreciative of the gifts. Garnarukran were avid collectors of mementoes of good craftsmanship, being excellent craftsmen and smiths themselves. It was one of the reasons why they held the items they crafted so the dear. Moreover, intricacy, a hallmark of good craftsmanship, made enchanting items easier. Wizards, in their wand-wielding work-weariness, did not expend the same amount of effort to create high quality pieces. That was not true for the mundane world.

Mundane jewellers and craftsmen worked mostly by hand, resorting to machines for etching work and the like. These handcrafted items always held high value – the everlasting grace, beauty, poise and price of a Rolls Royce would bear testament to that.

In the vaults of the House of Prince, Harry had found a massive uncut amethyst. He had had an agent for a sculptor specialising in semi-precious stones to create five shields, just after Snape's defeat. Four of them bore the Gringotts' crest along with one of Harry's House Crests. Each shield was presented according to the House that the Account Manager handled. The fifth bore the Gringotts' and the Goldblood horde crest. It was for the Lord Director.

The shields were also the first play towards persuading Gringotts to accept the 'purchased-and-not-rented' clause regarding Goblin-made items in the possession of Wizards and Witches. It was a subtle nudge telling them, that, should their obstinacy over the matter continue, Wizards and Witches could very well purchase the items from mundane artisans and get them enchanted, thereby causing the Garnarukran to lose business. People like Harry, who were equally at home in both the worlds, were in the perfect position to act as intermediaries.

"By Rewalka's boundless grace, Griffinheart!" gushed Hightab. "This is most fabulously marvellous! I can give it no higher honour than saying that the quality is superior to what a Garnarukro could sculpt!"

"It is, is it not? I knew of a person who dealt with a non-native sculptor and master craftsman among the mundane. I wished to honour the relationship of my Houses, and my own personally, with Gringotts."

Harry had not thanked the Garnarukran on behalf of the craftsmen along with the praise that he himself accorded them. He had instead behaved more like a trader displaying the wares of craftsmen in his employ.

"Indeed." Goldhaul's response was stilted as compared to the other three, who were still gushing over the shields. He received a small nod and a mouthed 'thanks' from Harry. He had read between the lines, obviously. All the same, there was no disputing the quality of the wares. It was always good to be aware of impending competition if one wished to stay in business.

"We too, have a gift for you, Griffinheart," Rubyclaw informed him conversationally. He called the Garnarukra (Harry saw a female member of the nation for the first time) attending to him, his secretary, so to speak, and asked her to send in a box which was in his office. The box was duly brought in and placed between him and Harry.

"When we...took care of your **_muggle_** relatives, we found this box which your mother had left you. At first glance, it was like any other box. Imagine my surprise then, when I recognised Goldhaul's magic expended in locking it – which has since been removed – along with traces of blood magic. Mrs. Dursley wanted to secret it away, just to ensure that you'd never get it. In her words, "You freaks can go boil yourselves! That stupid freak of a son of that..." – you can imagine her description of your parents, which I shan't repeat – "will never have it! Consider this payment for keeping the freak around for so long!" She had attempted to break into it – to no avail, obviously – in the hopes that the box contained money. We also recovered a sum of eleven thousand galleons which were awarded as a yearly thousand galleon stipend to whichever household became your guardian through the last verbal instructions left with Goldhaul. She only ceded both when threatened with charges of theft and upon revealing who we really were."

Rubyclaw watched Griffinheart intently. It was obvious that the boy had focussed on the box as a legacy from his parents, as a token that during those horrid years, they were still with him in some form, rather than on something he had obviously heard far too many times, or on the money. When Harry looked at Rubyclaw with slightly shiny eyes, trying to convey his gratitude, Rubyclaw continued, "I had _fun_."

Harry immediately decided that he did not want to know what the old Garnarukro construed as fun. As much as he himself would have felt pleasure (vindictive pleasure) just hearing about how the Dursleys would be tormented, he didn't want to ask about it. It was simply for the better that he didn't know about it.

"Thank you, Rubyclaw." Harry really didn't have much else to say to the Longbottom and Gryffindor Account Manager. Then he realised that he did have something to say. Neville would conquer the Crouches that afternoon. "I look forward to informing you about the success of you client, the Longbottom Heir, in adding the magics and fortunes of the Most Noble House of Crouch by conquest.

"Ah, yes. I will be looking forward to pulling the vault from under Goldrogue, the Account Manger. Please convey my war-cry in his support. I shall be with him in spirit if not in person as he embarks upon the valiant avengement of the loss of the Head of the Family."

"Indeed. I bid you all fair and fortuitous business and victory in battle."

* * *

That afternoon, Sirius and Harry floo travelled to Longbottom Manor. Neville was in the sitting room, polishing his wand ( _ **NOT METAPHORICALLY!**_ ). The repetitive actions were most assuredly for calming him down. His face was set in a pensive frown. It was obvious that he wasn't thinking happy thoughts, if his countenance was anything to go by. It seemed as if he was having second thoughts, springing chiefly from a relapse into self-doubt.

"Hi Harry, Sirius," he called.

"You ready, Nev?"

"Yes, I think..."

Neville's voice was quavering only that tiny bit.

"What is it, Nev? You aren't having second thoughts about killing those two bastards, are you?"

Neville looked at Harry incredulously. "Am I unsure about the necessity of their deaths? No. About my..." he faltered there.

Harry realised what was happening. Neville, who had never yet lifted his wand in anger, was going to have to spill someone's blood. Even if they were supposed to only be the informant civilians, Neville had been trained to take Crouch out in the case that he slipped from the Aurors' fingers, which was next to impossible. It was not an easy thing when it actually came to the act. And in spite of the rapidly rising bravado that Neville was wont to display, this would be the first time in his life that he would actually fight someone to the death, even if it would be covert, largely – if it came to that at all. The Neville of the old timeline had gone toe-to-toe with Bellatrix unexpectedly, solely on Harry's word. This Neville hadn't. It was actually fighting the bitch and coming away largely unscathed that had awoken the beast, so to speak. It had been the point where the valve binding in the real Neville Longbottom, who had waged a small-scale guerrilla war against the Carrows and Snivellus and protected his fellow students, was broken. Harry was sure that confronting Crouch would perform the same function this time around. Neville was more than willing to go through with the plan, in principle, but he was gripped by the insecurities that had defined Neville up to that point.

Knowing all this didn't mean that Harry instinctively knew what to say that would motivate his friend. He had succeeded in chipping at the valve, but only the catharsis borne through revenge against the escaped Death Eater would do it fully, even if it came legally, through the DMLE. Neville would be sure of himself, of the legacy of his parents. Most importantly, he would dispense the justice denied to him and his family. It was not really the most optimal way to boost his confidence in reality. It was important for him to know that it wasn't the words which were easy to speak when he talked about Quirrel or the killing of Snape, but the actual acts themselves that changed the person. Neville would have to see the blood and gore – as none of them would cast the Killing Curse, feel the mind-numbing guilt, feel sick to the very bone, hate himself slightly, then start recovering as he would feel the pride that his friends and family – his grandmother in particular – would feel for him and start recovering when he would realise that he wouldn't be a murderer, but just a man exacting revenge and executing one of the beasts that destroyed his family.

Harry looked pleadingly towards Sirius. He was the only one who would understand. Sirius had killed eighty six Death Eaters. It was one of the reasons why the supremacists were so willing to put the son of one of their own in hell without a trial. Sirius nodded and moved towards Neville, sitting beside him. Neville turned to look at the older man.

"Look, Neville, I don't know either of you as well as I should. But let me tell you that even though I am not happy with you having to do this, I know that it will be good for you. I killed first when I was nineteen. The bastard had just fired a Killing Curse at us. I acted on reflex. One slicing hex and we had Ronald Blockboard's head rolling along the pavement, while his body attempted to catch up with the fact that he was decapitated. I am sure that I was sprayed with at least a litre of blood. And I am also sure that I added a litre of vomit to the mess as well."

Both Neville and Harry cringed at the imagery. "You really aren't helping, Sirius. I really could've done without that image. At least we never saw what happened to Snape..."

"Which, given the fact that he was incinerated during a dementor attack with people trying to save their souls, is very obvious. That, however, wasn't my point. Until the time that I killed Blockboard, I never believed I _would_ kill someone, never mind the fact that I didn't believe that I _could._ More importantly, it was something that I wanted to actively avoid – you know my family, so Bellatrix murdering someone was something I had heard when I was fourteen, though mind you, I still can't fathom how she became what she is now. She was the only one who didn't hate me for getting sorted in Gryffindor, apart from Andi. Bellatrix actually took care of the Bubotuber Pus my own mother sent in a howler with the hope that it would burst on me and the other Gryffindors..."

Neville and Harry were goggling at Sirius. Bellatrix was once good?

Sirius shook his head to snap out of the reminiscence. "Anyway," he snapped with a sharp clap. "That day, when I was fighting alongside James, I had already lost my family by blood. James, Lily, Remus and the rat were all I really had. That Killing Curse aimed at in our general direction broke through my apprehensions. It was touch and go, really. All I could understand at that moment was 'us against them'. Either they would live, or we would. I didn't want to be like the DEs, but between my family and them, I would always choose to save my people, even if it meant putting someone down for good."

He then levelled a very piercing gaze at Neville. "You fear that you may not be able to do it. You are unsure about your ability to fight him at all. You are unsure about having the courage to fight, should things come to that. You are still forgetting that you won't be the line of attack, really, but let's keep it aside for the time being. That means you are either not willing to avenge your family, or are unsure about doing so. What is it?"

Harry could have hexed Padfoot. This was exactly what he was hoping to avoid.

That however, had turned out to be something akin to a slap for Neville. "How dare you?" he hissed.

"You tell me." Sirius was very wilfully goading Neville.

Harry decided to intervene. "Look Neville, I can appreciate that you feel nervous about this. But-"

"But nothing, pup," growled Sirius. "Neville has to understand that there is more to his legacy than just being a wizard. He has to take the responsibility of his family eventually. That includes meting out justice to those that have sought to harm him and his. If you shirk today, Neville, you will never be what you are meant to be. You have the power, you have the training and you have the reason. The question is this. Are you motivated and willing enough to do what is necessary?"

Neville stared at Sirius with a mixture of fury and apprehension. "I don't even know if I could land a stunner, Padfoot!"

"And have you not been practising with Harry and Moony?"

"But I knew it was practice! This... this will be real!"

"And you are the informant/unofficial back-up, and you still have been trained to more than the best of a thirteen year old's capability, Neville! Do you think we will let you flounder if Papa Crouch and Baby Crouch come around to get to you in the first place? Do you think the Aurors would do that? Today is not so much about you killing somebody, as it is about you facing your fears and more importantly seeking justice. We might as well just disable him and then get you to declare a blood feud. It will end up with both of them being executed, _**if and only if they are apprehended in the first place!**_ You fall prey to fear today, Neville, and you'll never be the Neville you are meant to be – the one who stood tall against Riddle's harem! Fighting is not always about raising your wand to your Enemy, Neville! All that matters is you looking that shiteball in the eye as he dies. It is about you owning the man who destroyed your parents."

Neville didn't look convinced, but Sirius ignored that. Fear was going to be an obvious thing in the case, but today was important. If Neville didn't break out of the sheltered life he was used to, he never would. Sirius sent the message to the Aurors and took Neville side-along to the outskirts of Norwich where the Crouches lived. Harry, who had scouted the area the day before Sirius' escape, in case he needed to hold the information over someone's head to ensure Sirius' trial at some point of time, followed them. Amelia had warned her three best senior Aurors about the discrepancies in the Crouch Jr. arrest and death. Gawain Robards, Christopher Farleigh, Wilbert Wood, and Rufus Scrimgeour (as the Chief Auror, he had to be there if they had to arrest a Department Chief) were all on alert. Scrimgeour was particularly gleeful, considering that Crouch, a possible dark horse for Ministerial candidature, once Fudge was ousted, would be taken out of the game altogether and _**he**_ would be seen working towards the arrest or encounter of the father and son. With his ambitions, popular public perception was very important.

* * *

The Auror platoon, dressed like the mundane, arrived about half a kilometre from the Crouch Home, so that anyone looking would just see _muggles_. It was one of the good things about Crouch being a Department Head. His House had to be visible to magicals, considering that he had to entertain people, including Ambassadors, sometimes. It was also why there weren't any magical presence detection wards. Every two or three metres, Farleigh, who was the group's ward specialist, would check for impending signs of increased magical activity. When they were about hundred and fifty metres from the house, Farleigh called them to stop. He excavated a small pile of earth and put a small stone engraved with various Runes into the hole.

"A portable ward-stone," he told the boys, assuaging their curiosity. "Since the anti-apparition, anti-portkey and anti-elf wards are engraved and pre-charged, it is nigh impossible to break them, and most certainly not if you are fighting for your life or freedom. It works on an area of about a square kilometre, so the current position would serve as the origin."

He then retrieved a file from his pocket, and set about bringing down the wards. Since there was an arrest warrant against both, the use of 'any force as necessary' was sanctioned. That meant that the wards could be brought down. Of course, the fact that Amelia felt particularly vindictive towards the two was blatantly ignored.

Now it was a matter of great caution. The wards extended to ten metres beyond the boundaries of the medium-sized house. It was from here that the raid had to be conducted very, very carefully. They couldn't draw their wands before they were inside the wards. They obviously intended the residents harm in one manner of the other, and drawing a wand meant that they were ready to attack. It wasn't worth taking the chance. As soon as they set foot inside the property, two elves popped into existence.

"Who bes you?" asked one. It was a big flaw in their plan. Even though they had had Amelia 'buy' Winky, they had discounted the idea that Crouch could buy some others instead.

"May we know who you are?" Scrimgeour asked. "I am Head Auror..."

It proved to be distraction enough for Sirius to get a drop on them. The two elves were stunned before Scrimgeour could complete his introductory spiel. Melvin Grahams, one of the Aurors on the standby teams (a procedure adopted after the burning of the Leaky Cauldron for arrests even in seemingly non-combat situations) was brought in. He sent the elves on to the DCMC office. Stunned House-elves could revive themselves through the Master's bond, if their Master or Mistress called them, and could then pop in to his or her aid.

"What the hell are you civilians doing here Black?" Scrimgeour asked scathingly.

"Let me remind you that my Auror licence was never revoked," Sirius replied coolly.

"Those two aren't," Scrimgeour shot back, pointing at Harry and Neville. "They have to stay off the property – outside the boundary of the property. As civilian informants, that is the farthest they can accompany any Auror squad. Kept the licence but threw away the rulebook, did you?" Sirius' face wilted into a pained grimace, as Scrimgeour twisted the knife he had driven into Sirius' ego. "They aren't the Potter and Longbottom you fought with, Black."

Sirius had no answer to that. He had to send the two mutinous teens out.

That done, the group spread out. The support squad approached the House from the other side, effectively locking the Crouch duo in. Now unless they were both unregistered animagi, they had no chance of bolting without a fight on their hands. With that, Scrimgeour approached the front door and burst in, wand held at the ready. That was a good thing, because as soon as he burst in some sort of curse came his way, which he hastily shielded himself from with a conjured brick.

Barty Crouch Sr. came barrelling in just after the curse. Evidently the man practised what he preached, as he had fired before asking questions.

"What is the meaning of this Scrimgeour?" the man asked, his face turning an interesting shade of puce. He was very obviously angry, and flustered to have visitors around without prior notice. Obviously he had been unable to hide his son beyond a hastily draped invisibility cloak – if he had event the time to do that. The brat had been more trouble than he was worth. Here were all the political ambitions he had once again entertained flushed away. "And what is Black doing here?"

"I have come to collect the pound of flesh I am due, Bartemius," Sirius informed him brightly.

"Bartemius Archibald Crouch, you are under arrest under the charges of breaking out and willingly helping a convict from Azkaban. You are also found to be party to conspiracy of sedition against the Magical Government of England..."

He never got to complete that as he instinctively rolled out of the range of a grey coloured curse that Bartemius sent his way after snarling, "Oh no, you don't!". This suited those present, really. Both the Crouches were now dead men walking.

Wood cast the Homenum Revelio, pinpointing the presence of Barty Jr. to the Auror squad. Scrimgeour kept fighting the Elder Crouch, and certainly had the upper hand as the fighting fit dueller in the battle of the old men. Considering that the ex-Auror and Head of the DMLE had been shunted to one of the most purely desk-job departments along with Pius Thicknesse's Department of Finance and Commerce, and had to have more meetings a day than there were days in a month, he was giving the current Head Auror a fair fight. But Scrimgeour was not the Auror Chief without reason. As Barty Sr. started animating and banishing things at him, he realised that Crouch had the upper hand within the house, but outside, in the bleak sparseness of the garden, he would lose the advantage. Tripping the man up, Scrimgeour started to subtly shift his angles so that it would soon be Crouch who'd have his back to the door. The other option of letting him have the upper hand and draw him out of the House was unviable. The other three were onto a Death Eater, and he knew that he had to buy them time. He was succeeding in his plan though.

The two were still at it while Farleigh, Robards and Sirius stormed up the stairs and caught Crouch Jr. The three were supposed to have a simpler operation, as Crouch Jr. was under the Imperius, bound to remain docile and subservient to his father, according to Harry's memories. Sirius was particularly intent on ensuring that Neville wasn't forced into a confrontation with Crouch. It was going well according to plan as they dragged him down the stairs and out of the door. Unfortunately, by this time, Crouch Jr. had his orders changed.

Barty Crouch Jr. knew – or rather felt – that there was something amiss. All of a sudden all the instructions that he had been hearing from 'the voice' had stopped, only to be replaced by a sudden feeling of anger, shock and fear. The silence didn't last long. He now had orders from The Voice to fight and harm his captors.

In classic Death Eater tactic, he brought out the Unforgivables with a flourish, only to realise he had no wand. With an animalistic snarl, he physically tackled Farleigh and clamping his teeth onto the Auror's shoulders with the same beastly savagery while trying to pry his wand from his hand, succeeding in his mission as Farleigh went into shock. He even drew the knife from the holster on Farleigh's thigh, holding it in such a way that any attempt to stun him would kill Farleigh also.

"Drop...wands," he rasped, as he spoke truly after nearly a decade. The squad could have groaned as Junior jabbed the wand too, into Farleigh's throat; a hostage situation. They should've realised that Crouch Sr., who could keep a person under the Imperius for eleven year, could most certainly change the rules during battle.

"Put down the wand, Rufus, and tell your little ones to do so too," Crouch sneered.

Scrimgeour looked back defiantly as they stood at an impasse, and questioned, "Do you really think us to be so foolish Bartemius? We haven't come here to let you go free."

"You always were a thorn in my side," Crouch muttered. "You always were ready to compete, weren't you?" He looked around and saw the support squad closing in. "Well, well, well, what do we have here? Ten Aurors to arrest two people? Not the fairest thing to do is it? Let me even the odds a bit." He fired a ridiculously powerful cutting curses – in a flurry at the support squad, giving Wesley Campbell an impromptu amputation of the right arm, and then at Scrimgeour who had moved forward, closer to Crouch to attempt a physical takedown. Scrimgeour dodged only a fraction of a second late as he sent his own curse at Crouch, a bone-breaker, sent as he dived, that caught Crouch dead in the face. Scrimgeour lost his left foot, just below the ankle as he howled momentarily in pain, while Crouch collapsed to the ground having just lost his viscerocranium. Crouch was dead barely a few second later.

Imperius Curse influences were notoriously difficult to cure. The brute-force method was killing the caster. Scrimgeour had done just that, though inadvertently – his curse was aimed at Crouch Sr.'s wand arm. Unfortunately, it wasn't an innocent man under the Imperius Curse. It was Barty Crouch Jr., a very cruel DE. As the fog cleared from his mind with his father's death, his fight-or-flight instincts took hold. He looked around wildly, taking in his situation. It really was a balance of power, all things considered. He had a hostage, but was surrounded by several Aurors – and Black!

"You!" he snarled and spat. "What are you doing here, blood traitor?"

"As I told your dearly departed and unlamented father, I am here for my pound of flesh."

Crouch sneered again, baring his teeth in a show of threat. Changing his grip on Farleigh so that the Auror was suffocating in a chokehold, with the knife turned inward so that the blade and tip could probably impale Farleigh's neck, he levelled the wand at Sirius.

Several things happened suddenly. A large grim pup, in all its red-eyed and smoky-breathed glory latched onto the wand hand and wrenched it away with a bone-snapping twist. At the same time, Farleigh dug an elbow into Junior's gut, knocking out the latter's breath and causing Crouch's knife-wielding arm to move away from the Auror's body involuntarily, with Farleigh escaping with just a nick to his neck. The pup transformed into Harry, his anger more than visible on his face as he pointed his wand at Crouch for daring to think about attacking Sirius. Sirius realised the face too well – it was the one James had worn when the Death Eaters had attacked them just a few days after Uncle Charlus and Aunt Dorea had been murdered, and attempted to torture Lily. Harry, like James, was gearing up to cast an Unforgivable, and Sirius was sure that Harry, like James was unlikely to miss or to be unable to cast it properly. He didn't want one of _**those**_ curses erupting from his son's wand. Just as Harry started to cast the Cruciatus, Sirius stunned him in mid-incantation.

In that split-second as the memories surfaced and the three actions occurred, the overlarge bear that followed in the pup's wake was almost ignored by Sirius but not the others. Just as Harry had started the curse, Neville the Bear roared. As he saw it, he had seen Crouch use the wand and barely a moment later, his friend had collapsed. It got 'Snorlax', the bear (named after a Japanese anime character by the original Marauders after Remus had shown them the cartoon), very agitated.

Now, the bear weighed in at a good seven hundred kilos. Bears also have a very powerful swipe and claws ranging close to six inches. So when that particular bear swiped and made contact with Junior's head, the outcome was never in question. Neville had cleanly scalped Bartemius Crouch Junior, ending the life of one of those who had deprived him of his parents. As he transformed, and saw the blood on his hands, he turned very green, and vacated his breakfast all over Junior's corpse.

* * *

Neville had envisioned a duel much like Harry's with Snape. He had envisioned a real, fair fight against Junior. He hadn't realised that _that_ duel had been officiated in very, very controlled conditions. And he had also envisioned nearly losing that duel in his nightmares, and tearing Junior and his father apart with earth magic in his righteous anger and adrenaline fuelled daydreams.

Turning into Honeypaws/Snorlax was never in the plan, just as the hostage situation wasn't. When it came to it, however, all he could see was Bartemius Crouch Junior, one of the torturers of his parents, holding someone hostage and having power over the Auror squad – and most importantly, having a slight chance to escape. It tore through his inhibitions as he approached the DE, who wasn't facing him, as stealthily and as fast as a bear could. He decided to attack Junior while facing him. Junior would experience pain and death as he saw his killer. One swipe of his enormous paws and it was done.

It was the immediate aftermath of seeing his handiwork, though, that got to Neville. Crouch had tortured his mum and dad. It didn't matter. He, Neville, had killed a man. Neville had wanted revenge against all four of those DEs. It didn't matter. He had killed a human being. Crouch was a Death Eater. It was meaningless. He had killed Crouch. Being a Death Eater was, due to the nature of the Dark Mark, a direct reason for execution. For all the good that the reasoning did, the truth was that he had killed a man. He was a murderer. It wasn't anything good to feel. He was a murderer. He had killed a man.

The mantra started repeating itself in Neville's mind. What would his parents think? He had killed a human. He had taken a life. He... There was no way to sugar-coat it. He had ended a life with his bare hands. Neville couldn't take it anymore. The revulsion at his own actions bubbled up. He was barely into his teens and had killed a man. He faintly remembered Sirius telling him about his first kill. The sick feeling became all-pervading. He threw up, all over Crouch and collapsed to his knees, shaking heavily.

He faintly registered the sick vanishing, being hauled to his feet by someone, being made to touch a portkey, and being forced into a chair when his shaking knees refused to support him. He registered being handed a calming draught, and then being force-fed it. He registered the shouting going on around him. All he really understood, though, was that he had killed a man.

* * *

In the same room, Rufus was venting his anger as he was being administered first aid for the cut foot.

"WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?" he yelled at Harry. "THE MAN WAS ARMED AND DANGEROUS..."

"Just as Snape was, Auror," was the retort.

"IT WAS A CONTROLLED DUEL AT HOGWARTS, FOOL! YOU HAD BEEN TOLD TO STAY OFF THE PROPERTY! DO YOU EVEN UNDERSTAND THE IMPLICATIONS OF WHAT YOU DID TODAY?"

"As far as I am concerned, I stayed off the property and only aided the Aurors while they were caught up in a hostage situation."

"YOU WERE ON THE PROPERTY AS AN ILLEGAL ANIMAGUS!"

"I have got a bunch of witnesses to testify that I am a dragon animagus, Chief Auror."

Here Farleigh attempted to intercede on Harry's behalf. "Really sir, there is a bylaw in the Prescribed Rules of Combat for Aurors that allows for help in dire situations from Civilians."

"I HAD ORDERED HIM OFF THE PROPERTY, FARLEIGH! HE OBVIOUSLY DIDN'T FOLLOW MY ORDERS! HE AND THE LONGBOTTOM WERE NOT SUPPOSED TO BE ON SITE! THAT WAS INSUBORDINATION OF THE HIGHEST DEGREE! I COULD STRIKE HIM OFF THE ROSTER FOR THIS!"

"You c-can't do that, sir..." Farleigh replied.

"I BLOODY WELL CAN!"

"No, you can't, Chief Auror," Sirius cut across Scrimgeour. "You aren't allowing him to present his side, for one. And for the other, as you yourself reminded me, those two aren't the Potter and Longbottom we fought with."

Scrimgeour opened his mouth slightly, only to shut it with a snap. It provided the slight stimulus to lighten the tension a fair bit.

The healer tending to him, Healer Anastasia Faraday, snorted in the most unladylike manner. "Really Auror Scrimgeour, you should take the calming draught. Even in your old-age, these are mistakes that you normally wouldn't do. Perhaps it's the blood loss."

Scrimgeour glared at her but relaxed as he ingested the prescribed potion. He started speaking after a while again, his tone normal, though it was evident through his words that the tone was being moderated by the draught. "The problem with the situation for me as an Auror is that I let two unlicensed civilians be around in the first place. I should have left a back-up for you in case things went wrong. You, Potter are the Head of Four Houses. Four very, _**very**_ important and – dare I say – legendary Houses, never mind the boy-who-lived tripe. Your death would have brought the current clean-up process crumbling down. Then you have Longbottom and Black who are each just as important politically. My head would have been on the line."

"I can understand your...predicament, Chief Auror." He really could. Even if this was put forth as a political pitch, Harry could see that Scrimgeour had new problems created by their interference. "And I respectfully submit to your allegation of insubordination also...even though you can't fire me from the Auror squad. But at that moment, in a hostage situation, with a person who looked like he was more frightened of the situation than Auror Farleigh should've and could've been, an animal was something he'd never have expected. Added to it was the fact that he was aiming his wand at my father, and I couldn't have stayed back."

Scrimgeour sighed. "What about the Crouch line? They are – or were – an Ancient and Noble line after all."

"We aren't sure. Muriel Prewett nee Crouch, Crouch Sr.'s aunt, is now the sole living member of the family. It all comes down to whether she abdicates her or any of her descendants' claims to the name. Ideally due to the illegal continuation of the line, the name and title should be ceded to the House of Longbottom by conquest. It isn't, however, something that can be decided at this moment," answered Sirius.

Scrimgeour nodded.

All things considered, the Alliance had been leaning towards him as the Minister, with Thicknesse a close second. The problem was with the situation. Thicknesse, who had helped shore up the economy admirably with reforms brought in with the changed situation of the Houses after the Purge, could be an admirable peacetime Minister. Scrimgeour, as the Auror Chief, was being viewed as a man of action. A marriage of convenience between the political ambitions of the two was the golden middle, and it was something that quite a few people in the know hoped for. Scrimgeour would work to prevent the losses, and anything that slipped through his fingers would be rectified by Thicknesse.

Amos Diggory was the third choice. He had the backing of the Clan Chief MacMillan and a few Houses, mostly in the Neutrals. Harry did have an axe to grind with him, considering that he was not exactly supportive of the James and Lily Potter Memorial Institute for Research in Lycanthropy and had actively stated his disapproval on the matter. As the Head of the DCMC, under the purview of which werewolves were classed, his support was important to prevent the alienation of the werewolves. His hardliner stand where he had taken up Umbridge's place on 'half-breeds' and his stringent strictures regarding house-elves had not earned himself fans in either Harry or Sirius.

There was also talk of separating the Ministry into three broad arms – Law and Order (LO), Policy and Governance (PG) and Economy, Finance and Commerce (EFC). The departments as established would then be handled jointly under the aegis of two or more arms. For example Thicknesse's entire department would go under the EFC completely, while the Wizengamot Affairs would be entirely under PG and the Auror department under the LO. Under the Fudge administration and under the Death Eater faction, all decisions to cripple the Aurors financially, even as a part of the DMLE, were taken unilaterally.

Under the new policies, the Aurors too would undergo safety and policy audits, and recommendations would be made for improvements. The EFC would then take those under advisement and allocate budget after further audits and reports, and the process had to be completed within a period of two weeks of filing the audit reports. This allocation bill would be discussed with the LO for approval. The allocation would then be ratified by the Wizengamot. Each such allocation would have to be voted within one week of its presentation, which was fair given the small population of magical Britain. If the Wizengamot voted against it, it had to be with specific comments regarding the contents of the allocation bill – again unlike the outgoing administration's regime which rejected pleas for removal of budgetary restrictions with pithy reasons like, "Increasing the Auror presence would cause alarm among the general public." The bill had then to be reworked within ten days. If the bill was brought back largely unchanged, however, the presenters would have to explain the nuances and assuage the dissenters within a period of another week of debate, at the end of which the bill had to go for a final vote.

It still put a lot of power with the Wizengamot as the ratification could still be used as a political tool to derail several important budgetary allocations or policy changes. However, the independence of the three arms would also take away the unilateralism and keep the balance. Importantly, it helped to decentralise power from the Wizengamot and the political lobbies.

Scrimgeour broke that train of thought as he limped over to Neville. Handing him another dose of the calming draught, he asked after the boy with some sympathy and understanding. "You alright lad?"

Neville was still in shock, and was starting to hyperventilate, before Scrimgeour basked the question again to shock Neville out of his shock.

"Yes...yes, sir, I am fine."

"Not the best liar, are you. It's okay Longbottom. The first life is always difficult. Everyone wishes they never have to do that, generally, unless you are the Dark Lord or his minion of course. And everyone who has taken a life wishes that they never had to do that."

Neville still sat unresponsive. Fortunately, Mad-Eye and Amelia chose that moment to walk in. Amelia and Sirius exchanged a glance and a jerked nod at Neville. It was enough to tell her what had happened.

"Yeh don't need tah worry about the scum, kid. It's painful, yes?" Mad-Eye asked, trying his hand at consoling a distraught Neville. Neville nodded with a downcast look.

"Yeh know, it's funny how things happen in life, yeah? I was the first one tah meet yer father when he got his firs' one as an Auror. Robert Milner wasn't allowin' force against that lot, see? And then along comes Crouch. He allowed us tah shoot first and ask questions later. Pretty ironic, eh?" Mad-Eye grinned hideously and his magical eye was spinning, evidently in amusement at the turn of events.

"Trust Mad-Eye to find morbid humour in the most macabre turn of events," Sirius muttered to Amelia, who could only shake her head in turn.

"And then along comes Frank Longbottom's son who kills Crouch's son."

Neville flinched and winced at that. Mad-Eye turned both his eyes at the boy – a boy who had just lost his innocence to a looming war.

"Listen up, Neville. I will tell yeh the same things I told Frank. Every person in this room – well not Healer Faraday and Farleigh – but everyone else has killed a Death Eater. Sirius here has killed eighty six. I have taken down eighty nine. I always tie a new knot into this thread," he elaborated, lifting his left wrist to show a thread around his wrist looped several times around it, and bearing eighty nine knot-beads, as he continued. "Amelia has scored a baker's dozen, I think. Even Frank and Alice each took down ten or eleven. Potter has offed one-"

"Two. Quirrel, the DADA Professor, was possessed by Voldemort and Dumbledore had the bright idea of at least appearing to protect the Philosopher's Stone in Hogwarts. I wasn't twelve yet. And I am not counting Malfoy."

Mad-Eye gave a non-committal shrug.

"Two or three. Two flunkies were taken down by Potter. That's twelve to go before he matches his father and ninety nine before he matches Charlus, who fought Grindelwald after his brief stint in the muggle war. I don't even know how many Charlus killed then. Now d'yeh know what it takes tah get the mark?"

Neville nodded. There it was again. Mad-Eye was going to rationalise the killing. He was having trouble accepting the killings at all, and was seriously thinking of Harry as a borderline nut, the way he seemed unaffected by the killings.

"D'yeh think they felt bad 'bout raping and killing someone? D'yeh think they are like yeh, feeling bad about killing someone, even if the person was a murderer, and while defending an Auror?"

Neville gazed at Mad-Eye...and tried to ignore the bloody magical eye. "No?"

"Of course not! All they have ever cared fo' is power. The power of ill-gotten wealth, borne out of the deaths of people, the power of fear, the power that they think comes from hatred – that's their currency, lad. Yeh have to learn to decide who to feel bad about – and what to feel bad about. Feel bad fo' their victims, laddie. Feel bad about the waste of magic that they were. Feel bad about their bad ways. Feel bad about having to be the one who curtailed that path permanently, should it ever come to that. Yeh are not a murderer. Yeh have protected others today. Yeh are a protector. Remember that. Black will thank you for it, as will Potter and Farleigh. And Augusta – she will be right proud of you in spite of the actions yeh've taken, 'cause you have dispensed justice where it was denied. It may be revenge, but it doesn't cause you true happiness, just relief to go with your remorse. Frank and Alice will be proud of you, because you didn't freeze, but fought. They wouldn't be happy at you _**having**_ to do it, just as James and Lily wouldn't have been happy for him, but they all would be proud of you for fighting for what is right – and winning."

Behind Mad-Eye, Harry, Amelia and Sirius nodded at him supportively.

It was going to be difficult. Neville, though a fighter, was by nature a gentle person. He was affected. But he would have the support of his friends and family, and that was his way to healing.


	42. Chapter 42

**A Need to Intervene**

"I didn't think Neville killing Barty Crouch Jr. would drive you to drink," Remus commented as he glanced at Sirius over the top of his book.

Amelia, Sirius and Remus were unwinding, sitting at the table in Sirius' room after she had returned from the Ministry, having had to field questions regarding the number of animagi she really knew, and how it was that somebody had more than one form. She had promised them that they would be told, soon. She had to learn the process first from Sirius.

Sirius snorted in response, before topping up his goblet and taking a long, deep swallow.

"Really, Sirius! Stop drinking!" admonished Amelia. "What's gotten into you today?"

"N'thing," slurred Sirius as he reached for the goblet and the bottle again.

Remus exchanged a worried glance with Amelia, before banishing the libation, while Amelia cast the Sobering Charm on Sirius.

"What really happened today?"

"Nothing really," Sirius replied evasively.

"And now you have gone from being drunk to being a pathetic liar. That's something you weren't before...you know..."

Sirius just huffed and snorted.

"What really happened today?" Amelia asked again. This time, it wasn't Amelia Bones, Sirius' betrothed, who asked the question, but DMLE Chief Bones. It always worked.

"You know how informants and civilians have to stay off the boundary, don't you?"

Amelia and Remus nodded.

"Harry and Neville weren't really following orders," Sirius started to explain and then giggled slightly, indicating that he wasn't entirely sober yet. "Scrimgeour told us later, just before you and Mad-Eye came into the office, that he was going to "strike Potter off the roster", and that was after telling me, while he was shooing them away before we went in to apprehend the Crouches that they "weren't the Potter and Longbottom" I fought with." Sirius lapsed into a lengthy fit of giggles.

Amelia and Remus looked at Sirius with undisguised pity and sympathy. It was bordering on cruel for everyone, really. James and Frank had been two extremely well-liked fighters in the DMLE before... But for Sirius, who still had relapses every now and then, especially when Harry was at Hogwarts, it was particularly cruel. He had lost his friends, family and freedom in the span of four days, and had been left to stew alone in survivor's guilt in the hell on earth, in spite of his innocence as far as the criminal charges went.

Sirius' giggles abruptly subsided. "Did they tell you how it all happened?"

"Yes. Rufus duelled Senior while three of you arrested Junior. But while Senior attempted to kill Rufus while out on the grounds, with Farleigh held hostage by Junior, Rufus dived and accidentally killed Senior with a retaliatory bone-breaker. It broke the Imperius on Junior and he attempted to kill you. But Neville in his bear form killed him."

"Somewhat right," corrected Sirius. "It didn't tell you why Harry is angry with me again."

Harry had been glowering at Sirius ever since they had left for The Marauders' Place. Sirius had explained to him that he had stunned him to prevent the boy from being arrested. He didn't want Harry to trip over the taboo he had asked Amelia to set up. He had received a grudging apology from his son, but Harry, Sirius realised, was not ready to understand and accept the consequences of all his actions.

"Why is he angry?" asked Amelia, attempting to coax the answer out of Sirius.

"I stunned him." The statement was made with the simplicity of tone as one used while saying "water is wet."

Biting down on all the admonishments that she could use, Amelia took a deep breath and asked another question. "You stunned Harry in the middle of a hostage situation. Why?"

"While Junior was pointing his wand at me, pup – and I mean actually the grim pup – bounded over, bit him and twisted and broke his hand," Sirius replied in a way to suggest that that explained everything. Then he frowned. "Where is the whiskey?"

Remus cast the Sobriety Charm on Sirius twice in succession, causing the mutt to shake his head and blink his eyes repeatedly to get over the terrible nauseous feeling that the onset of an award-winning hangover and the sudden dissipation of the same, caused. They all waited till Sirius looked to be in control of his senses once more.

"Why was Harry breaking Junior's hand reason enough to stun him?" Amelia prompted, starting the interrogation once again.

Sirius paled and grimaced. "It wasn't." When he wouldn't elucidate, he received twin pokes to his arm. He walked off towards the window and stared outside for a long moment.

"Do you remember the time back in January 1980 when we were near the Potter ancestral home and Death Eaters attacked, just after a few days after they murdered Uncle Charlus and Aunt Dorea?"

"Yes."

"Remember the anger on James' face after that prick, whoever he was -"

"Blake Rosier, Evan's older brother," supplied Remus.

"Yes him. You remember the anger on James' face? Never mind the fact that Lils was carrying Prongslet at that time, I had never been really afraid of James as I was that day."

"I remember," agreed Remus. "He looked demonic. It wasn't protective instincts that were fuelling him that day. It was rage, cold rage and white hot hatred. When he cast the Cruciatus to murder Blake – and there is no other description; it was murder – even the other two whom he had bound and made to watch what he did were shouting in shock and horror. He wasn't enjoying it, but he never really seemed like he wanted anything more than to destroy Rosier."

"That was why I stunned Prongslet."

"You mean he -?"

"He had started the curse. I stunned him before he could cast it. But I was sure that what Crouch and my dear cousin did to Frank and Alice would've seemed to be a tickle, if Harry is anything like James. And more and more, these days, I am sure that Harry is exactly like James. Not Prongs, the Marauder. Harry is like the James Potter who fought the war. He could've made the Cruciatus as effective as he would want it to be. He would have torn Crouch down to little pieces and laughed as he did it." He was silent for a while. "I was afraid of Prongslet. That's not right," he corrected himself immediately. "I am afraid of Prongslet." Sirius let out a long shuddering breath. "You know what I realised?"

"What?"

"I had an easier time in Azkaban than Pup had through his life – or rather, lives."

"What's Harry's body count again?" Remus asked, ignoring the general statement. When Padfoot got pissed, he started making progressively morose statements.

"Three – including Malfoy – or four, if you consider Quirrel the first time around."

"Snape, the whole Malfoy family, the Crouches, Pettigrew; and he sent in the application yesterday to be present for the execution of Dolohov, and the Lestranges," Amelia informed.

"Pup didn't kill..."

"Harry didn't kill Pettigrew? I think that he regrets that he didn't. The Malfoys? Lucius was a dead man walking and Draco is dead with the Debt claim that was a clear set-up to legally murder the boy. Face it Sirius. Harry set the boy up to die. He put a clause in the claim about 'thinking', knowing full well that he would violate it. And he said that he was rather surprised that Draco lasted for three months. If I were to be truthful, so am I," Amelia admitted.

"So what exactly are you trying to say?"

"Can't you see the pattern? Every single one of these people was among the ones he remembers as having had a hand in hurting you two and Hermione. He is creating situations where they die. Pettigrew betrayed us all, and brought Riddle back to life. Crouch helped him. Riddle, Pettigrew and Crouch are in the category of people who he hates or hated generally speaking. They brought on the war. Dolohov nearly killed Hermione and killed Remus. Bellatrix killed you. She tortured Hermione and killed Remus' wife. Snape, in his viewpoint, allowed Pettigrew to escape, helped the Death Eaters by not telling the Order about the Department of Mysteries trip in time – which nearly killed Hermione and killed you, and killed Charlus and Dorea. Lucius put the Diary-Horcrux to work in Hogwarts and that nearly got Hermione killed. He and Draco brought the war into the open by planning Dumbledore's murder. He may not care about that man, but he sees it as the steps along which Remus and Hermione were killed or tortured."

Sirius nodded in understanding.

"Harry has long gone past justice, Sirius. He has subconsciously decided to be the law unto himself, even though he won't accept it. He is now purely fuelled by revenge."

"Are you accusing him of striding down the same path as Voldemort?"

"No. Something that Dumbledore told him the first time around is true. Riddle is incapable of feeling love for anyone. Harry is, again as Dumbledore said, to a far greater level. "The power he knew not," if you cared for that description. Unfortunately, Harry hasn't experienced love. We know by now that the "I remembered after the scar was gone" thing was a ruse. So I truly don't think he remembers his parents and the love they had for him, beyond the dementor-facilitated memories. Those were the memories of James and Lils sacrificing themselves for him. Of James gearing up to fight Voldemort just to buy his wife and child some time. He hasn't really known the love that a parent feels for their child beyond that. The first time around, even the love he felt for a woman, the Weasley girl, was manufactured. So, even that was a lie. So he is falling back on those last memories of James and Lily."

"That doesn't mean that Harry isn't borrowing some of Voldemort's mannerisms. The way in which he made me feel guilty about not being around when he was younger, springs to mind. Wasn't it so similar to the memory of the graveyard where Voldemort took his minions to task?"

"What do we do then?" Sirius whined. "It is not as if the actions you spoke of are bad by themselves, at least as far as the ends are concerned!"

"By themselves, the ends mayn't be bad, maybe, but do you really want Harry to end up as a bitter, vengeful man who keeps killing to protect the people he considers his? I am not even saying 'people he loves'. No. The correct phrase would be 'people he thinks he is _**supposed**_ to love'."

"You mean he doesn't really care for us?"

"Maybe he does, maybe he doesn't. Why should he, really? Two years of intermittent contact – or four in Remus' case – do not really make people family. One lousy courtroom conversation where that version of me couldn't be bothered to ask after him wouldn't make us family. Consistently failing him when he needed help and support wouldn't make Minerva his family. He only knows of you as some mythical creature called a godfather, who first was, and then wasn't. If I were to take a gander, I would say he loves the idea of a family. The people in it could be anyone who would tolerate him, as even his expectations would be low after those...people."

"Then why help me at all?"

"As I said, he helped the idea of Sirius Black the godfather, not you, Sirius Black. You have not done anything in particular to assert your position as someone close to him. Then again it mightn't be so. He knew you more than James and Lily, and lost you in the same way. So he could care about you truly."

Sirius heaved a sigh of relief. Understanding Prongslet was not as easy as it seemed.

"What about Hermione?"

"You have got me there. She represents the only display of real love in his life. I have observed her. Harry might have been on the outs with her briefly, but that can't have gone on for long. She is the only real 'constant' for him, all things said and done."

"You two do realise that it is all speculation, right? You do realise that Harry might have some ulterior motives, don't you?"

"What sort of motives Moony? Harry isn't like that. We would know, wouldn't we? Pup may have some problems with understanding the concepts of humans and families, but I don't suppose he would have 'ulterior motives' as you put it."

"How would you know, Sirius? You are assuming that this is the same Harry that was in the memories. We think we know him, but we really don't, do we?"

"What do we do then?" Sirius asked again. He was now really scared. He wanted to be there for the Prongslet, but he was once again adrift, as he had been just after his escape.

" _ **You**_ will call David. _**You**_ will arrange, or get David to arrange, an appointment with this Dr. Maria McCraig. You are his father now, Sirius. Act like it."

"What do you mean 'act like it'? I can't get him to talk to us really, can I?" Sirius raged. "We know what happened, yet he is still distant, the way you say it!"

"Exactly! He has shown us memories. With Occlumency, he can repress them. He hasn't talked about his memories beyond the shouting, Padfoot. He hasn't talked about the Dursleys really, either, has he? A memory doesn't tell us everything. Even a pensive doesn't capture every emotion. We need him to talk. And if we can't coax him into that, we have to take the help of a professional. Amelia is trained to understand criminals, and unfortunately, her amateur diagnosis will be limited by that. I think I can understand that your reluctance stems from the fear that approaching a therapist would classify Prongslet as touched in the head. Think of her as an intermediary. She will _**help**_ us _**understand**_ Prongslet."

"You truly believe that?" Sirius asked, the unspoken plea for her to say yes very obvious in his voice. He had kept feeling since Prongslet went off to Hogwarts that he was losing the kid all over again.

"Yes."

Sirius wasted no time in calling on Jean Granger, and having confirmed that she was home, apparated straight off to the Grangers'.

* * *

"I hope I am not intruding, Mrs. Granger."

"Of course, not! Come in, come in! I am getting bored anyway, given that David is at the clinic and I have absolutely nothing to do. And really Sirius, you and David are cousins. Call me Jean."

"Thank you."

As they settled in the sitting room, Jean couldn't help but observe that Sirius had a worried look on his face. "What is it, Sirius?"

"It's – it's about the therapist, you suggested. I-we, that is to say, Remus, Amelia and I, think that it is necessary."

"Oh?"

"Yes. There was another incident this morning."

Jean's brow creased as she frowned. "What happened?"

"We had gone along as informants to arrest a Death Eater that had been smuggled out of jail by his father who was a high ranking official in the DMLE – its Chief, to be precise. The two attacked. Harry and Neville had to intervene when we were caught in a hostage situation. Harry subdued the Death Eater and Neville killed him. Neville is not handling it well."

It was a succinct summary. Jean closed her eyes. These magicals were driving her batty.

"So you are here for Neville. What about Harry?" she questioned Sirius. It was difficult to convince relatives of people who needed help. By its very nature, the situation made people very defensive, not to mention the stigma that was attached to it. Who knew what the magicals thought?

"Actually I am here for Harry, and now that you mention it, perhaps it will be useful for Neville also."

That was a welcome change. The biggest obstacle was acceptance from the people around the person.

"What happened now?"

"Could you just call Hermione? I can explain things to her in the general terms. I am not sure whether I can give the proper mundane analogy."

Jean nodded. Hermione came a bare few moments later.

"What happened to Harry?" Hermione had not been in the room for a full second before the question had been fired. Sirius couldn't help but see her nervous hand-wringing and general worry regarding Prongslet, in spite of Prongslet's all-round gittiness and shirty behaviour with her when she had raised her doubts regarding the necessity and validity of his actions. Why the kid was determined to make things go wonky Sirius would never know. For all that he loved James as a brother he could still accept that in the early years, James had been a git around Lily, her friendship with the Slimeball notwithstanding. Here the Prongslet and his 'Lily' were the best of friends and he had started to prove himself unworthy of that. That was the problem, wasn't it?

"That," Sirius answered, "is exactly what we are trying to find out." He repeated the summary of the morning's incident to her.

Hermione's face fell as she realised that neither had really wanted to kill – perhaps – but the situation had forced their hands – or paws. So she had another question to ask. "Was it the stick that broke the camel's back?"

"In a way, yes," answered Sirius musingly. "Yes." This time his tone was definite. "He tried the Cruciatus on Crouch junior when he seemed that he would attempt to kill me."

Hermione gasped. "Did he-?"

"Succeed? No. I stunned him before he could. He's been in a royal snit all day long."

"IS HE INSANE?" Hermione shrieked. "HE WOULD HAVE BEEN ARRESTED AT THE VERY LEAST, NEVER MIND THAT HE WAS ATTEMPTING THAT CURSE ON THE HEAD-PRESUMPTIVE OF A MOST NOBLE HOUSE!"

"Believe me, I know, Hermione, I really do. And then he also dressed down Fudge and near about ended his tenure during the alliance's Christmas Party, along with ending an alliance. We just don't know what to do. Ever since Halloween, Pup has started becoming more and more distant, under, what I now understand is actually an act. That's why we need to talk to this McCraig woman."

"Could you explain what exactly that curse does, Hermione?" Jean interrupted.

"That would be the magical equivalent of an 'indictable only' offence, mum. What is it with Fudge and the alliance?"

"He is turning to crime?" cut in Jean.

Sirius gulped. "Not exactly. Due to his socio-political status and the lower status of the criminal, he would have at best been given a warning, and at worst his emancipation in the purview of the law would have been repealed. The Rings and Headships would have been meaningless till he attained majority by age."

"So your law would have worked against itself."

"Sort of, yeah," Sirius answered weakly. Even though he wasn't the one who had made the laws, he felt as if Jean was going to scold him about them as a teacher would scold a student for poorly done homework.

Jean, on the other hand, felt the onset of a massive headache.

Sirius continued to put his foot in his mouth in the situation, "There was also the likelihood that as he was helping the law-enforcement, he would have been given a one-time pass."

There it was – a definite headache.

"Tell me Sirius, who made these stupid laws?"

"Purebloods."

"Ah."

There really wasn't much to say.

"Again, Sirius, what is it with Fudge?" Hermione asked. She had taken quite some interest in politics.

"You know that the House of Fawley hosted the Annual Alliance Party, don't you?"

Hermione nodded.

"They'd invited Fudge, who tried some politicking to save his chair while we were leaving. It was the full moon, as you'd know, and Moony gets a bit agitated if his pack isn't available to him. Harry made it quite...clear that the Wizengamot was too small for him and for Fudge as the Minister to exist simultaneously. It is now being questioned whether Fudge will last till New Year at all."

"Has Fudge always been so stupid to not see the signs that Harry had all but set under neon lights and announced publicly on the Equinox?" asked Hermione in sheer wonder at the audacity of the man who was the Minister.

"Yes. He was the incompetent traditionalist bungler who was easy to control for both sides."

"That's obvious," Hermione responded with a weary shake of her head. "The alliance?" she prompted.

"A little while into the party, Clan Chief MacMillan tried to catch Harry in a vice and pressurise him to exercise the Life Debt that the Clan of MacMillan has accrued to the House of Potter."

Hermione made a sympathetic sound. "Poor idiot." She saw Sirius and Jean look at her askance. "What?"

"How would you know that Harry did not take to it kindly?"

"Because that was the right thing to do. Harry had told me how life debts were used apart from the ways in which he used the ones Draco and I owed him. He had found it a bit morally repulsive. He wanted to get nominal services rendered from the Houses in the spirit of the Alliance."

"But-?" prompted Sirius, considering that this part of the story was not something that he had heard.

"I had convinced him to not do so."

"You?" The surprise in Sirius' voice was more than evident.

"Yes. Harry was behaving too innocently at that time, and it was unbecoming of his plans to seize power from the Death Eater faction. At the time, when he had discussed all the politicking he intended to do to destroy that lot totally, I was under the impression that he was going to destroy their reputations and their wealth, and not kill them. Anyway, I digress. I had pointed out that the spirit of the alliance went both ways, and that the Debts were a power that could be used to further his plans. Alexandria Turnbull had publicly apologised to him at the start of the school year. So her Debt had been called. In fact, I was the one who had formulated it. She has become the person who looks out for all the Heirs still at Hogwarts, using her position as a Prefect, and has to protect Luna when the rest of us aren't around."

"You told him that unless he was tendered an apology, the Life Debt shouldn't be called?" Sirius asked in shock.

"Of course, I did. I disagree with the cruelty that he had infused into Malfoy's Debt claim, but that doesn't mean that I want Harry to be a naive person. He has power, and it is his responsibility to use it in a way that helps him and the Magical World in general. MacMillan, for all his exuberance in attempting to connect with Harry, did not apologise. He wouldn't let go of his pride. He besmirched the name of the House of Potter, accused its Heir and Lord Presumptive of wrongdoing, and even when it was proved to be otherwise, didn't apologise. This meant that he didn't take the alliance seriously, nor could he own up to his actions. He has no honour. Behaving decently with him would give Harry the higher moral ground. But forgiving him would portray the Houses of Potter, Gryffindor, Slytherin and Peverell as weak. Anything that Clan Chief MacMillan would do to manipulate Harry was bound to show him and his Clan in a bad light, putting Harry further in the position of power within the alliance. With him exposed, his input will not be taken seriously, and people will think twice before they actually commit themselves to any business with his House. He can't fall away with the alliance, because it will not take too long for everyone to know that he will have broken away in disgrace, thereby making everyone else wary of him and also because he doesn't have an agenda that closely follows that of the other factions. Ergo, he is neutralised, while at the same time the House of Potter is once again shown to be the House, the favour of which is important currency," she finished in one breath, counting the points off on her finger, as her voice rose as she explained her reasoning.

Jean was looking at her daughter in a new light.

"When did you take an interest in politics?"

"From the day Harry made us his Protectorates, mum. I wanted to understand the nuances, so I read up on that. Then I read up on the policies of the Houses and government and the Wizengamot. When Harry told me about his entry into the Wizengamot, I knew that he _**would**_ need advice in situ, and he _**would**_ turn to me. So I have been in contact with Heirs across the political spectrum, right from Theo Nott who is a traditionalist but not a supremacist and still follows his father's agenda to an extent, cousin Daphne from among the neutrals, and Susan and Neville as well as everyone else from the alliance, and so on. I also helped him with the announcements, particularly the one about the house in Godric's Hollow. Harry just wanted to remind people that it was his house. I put in the clause regarding action against the Ministry for usurpation."

Sirius goggled at the girl in front of him. All along, he had been under the impression that Harry had operated completely on his own, and had gotten carried away in the process. What he heard now was completely astounding. Harry had done a lot of work on his own, yes, but he had been discussing politics with and taking advice from Hermione. He felt for a moment that he was listening to Aunt Dorea, or Narcissa who had great interest in and head for politics, for that matter. He exchanged an astonished glance with Jean as the implications of what they heard became clear to both.

Hermione, without conscious thought ( _ **perhaps**_ ), was positioning herself, and acting as Lady Potter.

That begged two questions. Jean asked the first.

"Why? Why did you have to get into all this at all?"

"I didn't have to, mummy. I wanted to. Personally, Harry is my best friend, and I would do anything to help him." The complete seriousness in which she stated it gave rise to connotations, which Jean decided to firmly ignore. "Harry has a tendency to start things with good intentions, but he often only checks the advantages. He has a tendency to ignore the other side of the coin. The second thing is that he trusts me, or at least, he did, completely. He is most likely to listen to me most of the time, even now, which is why I am his Patronus. One of them anyway," she explained.

"He told you?"

"Yes."

"OK. This discussion is getting away from me," interrupted Jean. "What is this about the Patronus? What is a Patronus?"

"A Patronus is the manifestation of the protective instincts of a witch or a wizard. They are also manifestations of the influences of people, dead or alive that the caster feels loved and protected by, or loves and wishes to protect, in some cases. They are normally corporeal animal forms. Harry has a lioness, which feels like me."

Sirius and Jean were now floundering. They had expected a teenaged, angst-ridden witch, worried about her friend. Her answer told them something that both had suspected but neither was prepared for.

"And what are the other reasons?" Jean asked, almost fearing the answer, yet resigning herself to the idea that it would be the real answer. Hermione was finding her feet in the magical world. It had been her biggest fear, which lay unmitigated even after finding out that she had some magicals in her ancestry. Who really cared about the ancestry, anyway? All she could see was a world she couldn't get into, tearing her daughter away from her.

"I realised that I was going to get to do something meaningful. I was getting a chance to influence the new society of which I am now a part. The machinations that were purposely being employed, using all the madness the surrounds Harry, were a means to eliminate the chance of war. We were keeping my contributions silent till the Death Eater faction had been dealt with legally, politically and financially. I am uppity mudblood filth to them, while he is the half-blood with a mudblood mother, who has delusions of power, after all. Eventually Harry was going to slip my contributions into conversations as much as he could. It would only be useful when he had the power and his word meant much more than anyone else's."

It was almost as if Hermione was telling them that she and Harry were a team. Which, given her explanation, was probably true. So Sirius asked the second question that troubled the two gentlemen.

"So what started the trouble in paradise?"

Hermione, who to that moment had been explaining things almost in the manner of a professional way, shook visibly for a moment. Her tone and expression softened and saddened. "Harry's past and his fears caught up with him."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Sirius asked in absolute bewilderment.

Hermione glanced towards her mother meaningfully and mimed a circle. Sirius understood the need for privacy and with a silent cast of "Somnus!" lulled Jean off to sleep.

"He is growing impatient, Sirius. He fears all of us being taken away from him once more on one hand, as he continues to fight a war that hasn't started, and on the other, remains unsure whether we will require him after Voldemort is gone forever. He is building walls. He is making sure that he has excuses ready for us, in case we reject him. That's of course, what I think. It may be something absolutely different. Whatever it is, it is making him lesser and lesser the Harry I knew and know to still exist somewhere in there."

Sirius listened, really listened to the witch's impassioned reasoning. But her next statement was the clincher.

"He is losing more and more of himself that he was in the other time, and still was till just before the Chamber, and which made him so endearing," she said with a slight blush. "I...I just want my best friend back."

"In spite of him calling you Petunia Dursley?"

"Excuses, remember?"

"Thanks, Lady Dagworth-Granger. Please indulge one more question. Do you think Harry is a murderer? He has taken lives and shows no visible remorse."

Hermione shook her head. "My reaction will be skewed by the memories, Sirius. On one hand, intellectually, I can understand where he is coming from. On the other hand, I _**know**_ that killing is wrong. And yet everything is going on within the legal provisions. I don't like it. But no, I don't think he is a murderer. I hate him having to do those things. Thinking of him as a murderer would mean hating him. I could never do that."

Sirius smiled at the girl gratefully as he started to leave. "Prongslet is lucky to have you as a friend, Hermione."

Hermione blushed and gave a sad smile. "Get him back, Sirius. That's all that I ask of you. He is my first and best friend."

"Of course, Hermione."

Sirius was about to leave, when Hermione stopped him. "Just one more thing, Sirius."

"Yes?"

"Wake my mother. You still have to talk to her."

"What? Oh!"

Jean woke without the normal groggy feeling after any length of slumber. "So what do you intend to do, Sirius?"

"I want to meet this Dr. McCraig before taking the boys to her."

"I will set up an appointment as soon as possible," assured Jean.

"Could you tell me a bit about her?"

Jean took that the wrong way and raised her eyebrows in barely contained irritation.

"No! Not that way, really! I just wanted to know whether she is a mundane in the know or a newblood who returned to the mundane world. Considering the case..."

"What he means to say, mum, is that as the boy-who-lived, Harry's case could garner unwanted attention."

"... and well, it is likely that she might know about me being in Azkaban and escaping, but not about being exonerated," Sirius supplied. Jean realised that even the man in front of her needed help, regardless of whether or not he realised that he needed it.

"Ah. Maria is a fairly good acquaintance. She was a muggleborn witch, as she told me. She is trustworthy. We took Hermione there in the Christmas of her first year. She had nightmares about the troll. Maria left after a disastrous episode in the war – your lot's war," Jean added fiercely. "She didn't elaborate. I didn't ask," she continued, answering the unasked question.

"Again, this may be an inappropriate question, but could you guess at her age? I might have known her."

"I would say she is your age. Maybe a year or two older."

"Oh."

Jean surveyed Sirius with a gimlet eye. "Sirius, may I speak my mind?"

"Jean, right now I am quite sure that I have no way to understand anything that Prongslet – Harry is thinking or feeling or anything at all for that matter. I am out of depth. Just tell me what you are thinking!"

"Firstly, I think you should stop calling him Prongslet or Pup," Jean ordered.

"Why?" Sirius was really intrigued and curious.

"Tell me why you call him that."

"Well his father, James, had an animagus form of a stag," Sirius started to explain, before turning up with a completely different angle. "Hermione, did you know that Prongslet finally managed to become the Prongslet? He managed that form sometime over the term. He was with me and Moony in that form on the 27th," he informed them proudly. Jean and Hermione both looked at the man in frustration, sympathy and several things, all of which Sirius missed.

"So where was I? Oh yes, I was telling you about Prongslet and Pup," Sirius continued. "As you know, my animagus form is the exact older replica of Harry's pup form. You've seen it, haven't you?" The ladies nodded. "So as Prongs' son he is Prongslet, and as my son now, he is my Pup."

"What about Lily?" Jean asked. "What connection does Harry have to her?"

Sirius was dumbfounded. Not in all the time he had known the kid, had Prongslet really shown any real connection to Lily. Why?

"I...I don't understand it, Jean," Sirius finally blurted out. "Harry, he – he is almost nothing like Lily! Is it really possible?"

"What was she like, really?" Jean had not really ever heard a description of Lily Potter. Somehow she and Harry's family on the maternal side were two topics that everyone seemed to skirt around.

Sirius's face took on a very sad expression. There was a smile, but there was more of nostalgia and reminiscence. "Lily...she was the best of us all. She was the kindest, cleverest and best person I ever knew – and that includes my Aunt Dorea and Uncle Charlus. She and James both hated bullies, really. But where James always had the streak of vigilantism and rebellion, Lily's sympathies went out to the ones who were bullied. So many times she would take care of the younger students, particularly when their families were killed or any such big incidents happened. Lily was compassionate. She always seemed to give of herself, putting the needs of others ahead of her own." He chanced a glance at Hermione, who had a comprehending look on her face and mouthed, "As he largely was in the other time, and was before Christmas!" Sirius nodded pensively.

"That's not to say that she was only a soft angel type of person. She could be enchantingly nasty and vicious. And she was powerful. Most of all she was brilliant. And she was scary. She was so brilliant that it was scary, come to think of it. If anyone crossed her, the person was most likely going to be annihilated and humiliated to kingdom come. In those qualities she and James were alike.

"But where James could be petty and could hold a grudge, Lily's anger would explode like a bomb and then would be gone just like that. But she did believe in second chances. That however, had to happen with punishment, repentance and atonement on the perpetrators' part.

"But most of all, even more than James, who often had enough hatred that he could possibly have been a good Death Eater, were it not for the fact that he also loved jut as fiercely and hated the dark arts and managed to balance everything out, Lily had a fierce sense of justice and an indomitable will. Nothing was unachievable for her. I am sure that she could have willed Voldemort's loss of body that Halloween night. Her determination could border on obstinacy. That is something that Harry shows in spades, just in a different manner.

"She loved rules. She adored rules, really. And books. Any authority, any law was made to be followed. She was of the belief that the word of the law superseded the spirit, because the law was made that way. It was why she initially despised us marauders. But she also had a sense of fun. And she was cheeky.

"She was intolerant of fools and repeat offenders. I remember an incident in our sixth year, just after she had had her friendship with Snivellus the Slimeball pissed on by him when he had called her the m-word in our fifth. That filthy disgusting creature had been begging her forgiveness on one hand, but she had caught him using it again as he tortured a third year Hufflepuff. Snape hadn't been able to walk properly for the rest of the year. What she exactly did we never knew, but it was enough for that...vile thing to lay off of everyone. It was one of my best ever Lily-memories," Sirius recounted gleefully.

"Funnily," he continued, "she also often quoted that Voldemort had to be taken out like some bloke called Sherlock Holmes went after Moriarty. She always believed that if we let the little fish scamper away and concentrated on Voldemort, they would return as a big school. She had once wanted to force her entry into my ancestral home to force my grandfather to see reason. Not that he would have disagreed, but he was so neutral in his beliefs, that she joked that the pH tests on him would yield a value of 7. I never understood that, by the way."

"As she grew, though, she underwent a few changes. She became such an upbeat witch, so full of life. Lily loved life in a way few people that I have ever known loved.

"To me, she was family. She became the sister who would sit me down and let me talk, or would tease me about work, Amelia and my other betrothed, football or quidditch, my insane family...anything, while she cooked or tended to Harry. She would sometimes give me ice cream too!"

In that moment, to Jean, Sirius looked to be a boy just out of his teens, which was what he was when he had been when he was dumped senselessly into the godforsaken dump. She could see that the memories were affecting Sirius. Lily, it seemed, was the one who took over the duties of tying together the madcap group of friends with a semblance of sense. Sirius had unshed tears in his eyes as he remembered his friend. Jean simply listened as Sirius came to a realisation.

"Merlin, I miss her, just as much as I miss James!"

And there it was. It was easy to stop grieving for Sirius with Harry around. Jean had seen a photograph of James at Marauders' Place, and the resemblance was shocking. Were it not for the eyes, nobody would've been able to tell the difference. With Harry going on a rampage that would have probably suited James' style, it was easy for the ex-inmate to slip into the sort of camaraderie he had with James, in spite of any conscious effort that he may have made to the contrary and to treat Harry as a son, when he had escaped.

But grieving Lily Potter, the firebrand redhead was not so easy. Often, the presence of a woman brought about a little order to the madness and havoc that people like Sirius and James, and even to an extent Remus could wreak. It was missed. But that was most superficial. As Sirius had described, Lily was more than Harry's mother, James' wife, a muggleborn witch fighting against oppression, Sirius' and Remus' friend, and the best among them or the brightest witch of her age. What really could describe the real importance of Lily to the Marauders was probably the word, 'presence'. Lily could've very well been an ideal, the sort of person that the others either wanted to be like or be with. Though it might have been James or maybe, Sirius, who had led the Marauders in their exploits, the truth was that once she had become one of them, Lily had become their core, till Harry had come along. She had become the one who would help them understand and forget their worries, and anger, and fears.

That was what the broken people in The Marauders' Place missed. And it was hurting them.

"Sirius," Jean started gently. "Would you really mind if I suggest something?"

"Go on Jean." Sirius's voice was still breaking, Jean thought.

"I think that before you try to help heal Harry, you might need to heal first." Sirius' gaze turned towards her sharply. "Listen to me," Jean continued unrelentingly, "You are just as hurt as your godson, if in a different manner. You are locked between two times, Sirius, one where you had a living, happy family and one where you suddenly don't have them. And the passage of twelve years in the worst place on earth imaginable is befuddling you."

"But Harry is..."

"You can't help Harry unless you come to terms with everything yourself, Sirius. Think. This time in two weeks, Harry will be gone to Hogwarts, and so too will Remus, Minerva and Susan. Amelia has her job. What about you? Drafting legislations, as much as it may be taxing, mightn't take the whole day. And you will be alone. Free, but alone. That will leave you open to assaults by your own mind and grief. It will harm you more, and you being harmed will harm Harry more. Do you want to take that risk?"

That crumbled Sirius' resistance. For all his issues, Sirius did love the kid, Jean realised.

"I am going to call Maria right now," she stated firmly, as she dialled the number to Maria's office. "Hello? 8213897? Is this Dr. McCraig's office? Yes, this is Dr. Granger speaking. I have a friend in need of her professional expertise. I believe the case needs to be expedited rather quickly. Please inform her that the case is rather special and other-worldly."

There was silence for a while as the receptionist obviously spoke to Dr. McCraig.

"The patient had to cancel the appointment? That is very fortuitous indeed! Please tell her to expect me and my friend in say, half an hour?" she asked Sirius for permission with a raised eyebrow. Sirius nodded in compliance.

Jean grabbed her cloak and turned to Hermione. "Will you be alright till David comes home, or would you like to go to The Marauders' Place?"

Hermione, who had started to roll her eyes at Jean, stopped upon being given an option. She was thoughtfully staring into space for a moment, before deciding. "I think I will stay. As much as I want to talk to Harry, Dad will be home soon."

Jean shrugged and nodded, as she absently grabbed her car keys and strode out of the door, Sirius following in her wake nervously.

* * *

The precincts of the office of Dr. McCraig seemed to be specially designed to help calm the people who came to visit her. The waiting hall was well-lit and done up in soft pastels and earthy colours, with a medium-sized aquarium where several small, brightly coloured fish flitted through the small, artificial reef. The ceiling too, was done in a calming, subdued chrome yellow.

Jean and Sirius were sitting in the waiting room at Dr. McCraig's. Well, Jean was sitting and reading the magazines, while Sirius was alternating between fidgeting and pacing, till Jean snapped at him for that. So he plopped himself near the aquarium and poked at the glass whenever a fish would bump against it. Sirius, though he had come clean to both James and then Harry, hadn't really _**talked**_ to anyone. On one hand he was male, so obviously, talking about feelings and stuff was a very queasy thing to even think of. On the other hand, he feared that he wouldn't be believed by the woman. Who would, really? He was Sirius Black after all, the Blackest of the Blacks, traitor to the Potters, mass-murderer, for all that she might know. He had been unfairly judged by people all his life. Would this new woman, who Jean claimed could help him, judge him too?

He felt a strange feeling of foreboding in the pit of his stomach as the receptionist directed them to the Dr. McCraig's chambers.

Jean knocked and entered. "Hello, Maria," she said with a smile. "Let me introduce Sirius Black." She ignored the open-mouthed shock on the woman's face and turned to Sirius, who looked just as gobsmacked as she continued, "Sirius, this is Dr. –"

"Marlene?"


	43. Chapter 43

**Meeting Dr.** ** _Marlene_** **McCraig**

The next two chapters (including this one) were the last that Harmonious Cannons wrote. He had left a complete outline of all his stories, so for the simple reason that he never let anything that he started remain incomplete, we are going to complete the stories. This is MumbaiGirl1. I do not have a separate account.

A/N: Sorry, but a gigantic A/N precedes an equally gigantic chapter.

1) This is a long chapter. _Sirius_ is getting help and immediately – so obviously it's Sirius-centric. People may have problems with Marlene being able to help due to their rather...chequered...personal history, but as it stands, she is the quickest available resource for them.

Also Sirius is talking, even though most patients rarely ever do so, on the first appointment and the doctor needs to draw them out. Some almost never respond.

As for the rather volatile swings between angry-Marlene and professional-Marlene, I am assuming that psychotherapists are rather adept at controlling themselves – or in this case, regaining control enough to help their patients rather, quickly. It made this bugger of a chapter a real irritant to write as far as making it seem plausible as far as the interactions between the two went. Both want it over with.

The only real improbability is getting the appointment as quickly as they did get in the story, at all.

2) Thanks to alix33 for her corrections, as always.

3) I am _**NOT**_ a native English speaker. I do like to think that I can use the language well, but that could as well be a delusion. Anyway, American English usage and British English usage are not always discernible for me, though I prefer the latter. So if I make a mistake, I humbly request the Brit-pickers to suggest the equivalent/alternative British usage. For example, did you know, that Americans say " _ **For**_ all intents and purposes" and the British say, " _ **To**_ all intents and purposes"?

* * *

 _Jean knocked and entered. "Hello, Maria," she greeted with a smile. "Let me introduce Sirius Black." She ignored the look of open-mouthed shock on the woman's face and turned to Sirius, who looked just as gobsmacked, as she continued, "Sirius, this is Dr.–"_

 _"_ _Marlene?"_

Jean was sure that these magicals had pulled some magic-powered super-speed gimmick while she blinked naturally. How else could they have gone from a normal introduction to a confrontation with wands drawn and lit with spells on their tips? She didn't even have time to verbalise that thought before Sirius was physically shielding her and also had a conjured metal shield held in his hand. The reason was obvious, for it had just shielded them from some sort of red spell.

* * *

"Stay behind me!" hissed he. "Whatever happens, stay behind me!"

"Sirius?" whispered Jean.

"Not now, Jean!" answered Sirius urgently. "This woman was supposedly dead! We can't trust her!"

"YOU ARE ONE TO SAY THAT, IN MY OFFICE, NO LESS, SIRIUS BLACK! WHAT IS A MURDEROUS TRAITOR LIKE YOU DOING IN MY OFFICE?" Marlene/Maria screeched.

"I AM A MURDERING TRAITOR?" Sirius growled. "WHAT ABOUT YOU? WHO DID YOU BETRAY? OR WERE YOU IN CAHOOTS WITH PETER PETTIGREW? IS THAT WHY YOU SHOT A SPELL AT AN UNARMED NON-MAGICAL WOMAN?"

"I'D RATHER BE DEAD AND IN CAHOOTS WITH POOR PETER THAN YOU, BLACK! WHY ARE YOU HERE? DID YOU FINALLY FIND ME, AND DECIDE TO COMPLETE THE WORK YOUR CHUM LUCIUS STARTED? COME TO KILL ME, HAVE YOU, YOU MOTHERLESS BASTARD?" She heaved a heavy breath before quietly apologising to Jean, just as Sirius' next tirade erupted.

"WELL PETER WAS GIVEN THE DEMENTOR'S KISS LAST MONTH. I CAN ARRANGE FOR YOU TO HAVE IT TOO, MCKINNON! DID YOU GET THE MASK AND MARK AS WELL, THE DUTIFUL GRANDDAUGHTER APPEASING HER GRANDFATHER?"

"STOP IT!" Jean shouted across the two clearly incensed – furious – magicals and slammed a heavy tome onto the doctor's table to emphasise her presence. Having quite forgotten her, the two noises startled the angry two into a long moment of shocked silence.

Seizing the moment, Jean decided to stamp her authority on the situation, if only to get them to calm down. It was time for the two to know why one should never ignore, or anger, a dentist. It was also time for them to know that casting spells at her wasn't something that she'd appreciate, whether or not she received an apology after that. Pointing the woman into the chair which she had previously occupied in her own office, and Sirius to another on the visitors' side, she ordered, "You both will put your wands and any other magical trinkets that you have away. Then you will not behave like a magical. Instead you will be civilised and sort out whatever the problem is, without shouting. Am I clear?"

Evidently she was being clear, for the two obediently sat down, muttering in acceptance.

"Good! Now, if one of you can tell me what is going on, and then if the other would be so kind as to listen and correct – calmly – the other, we might get somewhere and actually get to the reason why we are actually here. Since this is your office, Doctor Who-ever-you-are, I will ask you to answer first."

The woman grunted in a most unladylike fashion. Summoning up her calmest tone, the woman spoke with a cold tone, "This man here, Sirius Black, is a notorious murderer, Jean. I honestly can't believe you have had the misfortune to meet him at all. He betrayed one of his best friends to a very dark wizard, the very friend to whose son he was going to be the godfather, and killed another best friend! You might have heard about Harry Potter, of course, from Hermione? Yes, the very best friend that she gained out of that troll incident! This man betrayed the Potters!"

Marlene/Maria was expecting Jean to hysterically scream and be afraid of Sirius, and generally do all kinds of things that people do when they are suddenly scared. She was sorely disappointed.

"As I happen to know better, having _seen_ the truth, I will just chalk that down to ignorance. Sirius?" she prompted him.

"This...this woman here...she is not Maria McCraig. She is a liar is what she is! Aren't you a liar, Marlene McKinnon?" He sneered at her. "Just like Peter, she too buggered off, letting everyone think that she was dead. Come to think of it, it was probable that Peter took the idea from you – faking his death. He even carried the idea around for nine months. Why don't you just show me your dark mark and be done with it, McKinnon?"

Jean placed a calming grip on Sirius' shoulder. He was getting increasingly agitated.

"Whoever you are, doctor, I cannot vouch for you as I can for Sirius. You have lied to me all along, if what Sirius says is true. And I have enough proof to believe my husband's cousin. So I request you to come clean. Who are you? Are you a newblood witch? Are you a doctor at all? Is your degree real?"

"You know, I am very offended by that suggestion. While it is true that I am Marlene, and my papers are all in the name of Maria, my efforts were real enough. I am Marlene McKinnon, and I am Maria McCraig, technically a pureblood witch. I chose that pseudonym because Maria and Marlene are apparently variations of the same name. McCraig was close enough to McKinnon to keep the connection, but not enough for magicals to truly recognise me if they ever came calling."

Jean was about to nod and accept that when Sirius' Auror senses tingled. "Why the hell are we so calm though we were angry till a few moments ago, McKinnon?"

The witch suddenly looked sheepish. "Jean did say that we should not use magic, but I always spray copious amounts of calming draughts in aerosol form just before a patient enters. We are both really angry, if our voices managed to reach that level."

"That's unethical, doctor!" Jean was quick to reprimand the woman.

"I don't use magical means as medicines or to treat them, Jean," Maria replied coldly. "Most of the times, the patients that meet me either are forced to attend the meeting or are just so plainly out of sorts and at odds with everything around, that the calming draught helps them do just that – calm down. It is probably illegal, but I don't make them drink a calming draught, you know."

Jean frowned beside a seething Sirius. What Maria/Marlene was admitting to was not illegal though it was frowned upon. Other people without magical means at hand would have called it creating an ambience of calmness and trust.

"You left!" the man accused. It came out as a weird cross between a hiss and a growl. "You left me in the lurch!"

"Why does that matter Sirius?" Jean asked, recognising some undercurrent to the anger. There was such venom in his voice that Jean felt sure that he would strike at Maria like a snake.

"Just a minute, Jean," he replied. To Sirius, Marlene who was trapped in a blood-signed contract by her own family had been as much a victim of circumstances as he. It was what they had commiserated and bonded over as the Lord- and Lady-in-waiting. They mightn't have been in love as was expected by the contract, but they had been close enough friends for one to not abandon the other. "Who are you, really? Who were you then? Who are you now?"

"Your left arm, Black," Maria/Marlene demanded. "Show me your left arm."

"I demand the same ' _courtesy_ ' in return, McKinnon."

"ALRIGHT!" interrupted Jean. "WHAT EXACTLY IS GOING ON?"

"This woman here, Jean, is really Marlene McKinnon, if it really is her and not some imposter. She was my betrothed, the Lady Black to be. And then, she up and left. Just like that, this woman left me hanging."

"But –?"

"Oh I didn't leave you hanging, Black. You had Bones. She was there to take care of you all these years, wasn't she?"

"Yes, I've had Amy – for about the last six months. Far too many people have had to care for me, McKinnon over the past six months."

"Oh yeah?" snarled Marlene. "She left you for someone else for twelve years, Black?"

"Wouldn't you have known what was happening if you had been in at least some contact with magic, Doctor? I have only recently become a free man, you know. My son has ensured that the Black name is rising back to the prominence along with his other Houses."

"Your son?" asked Marlene nonplussed. She quickly cast a silencing charm, looked at her wand and Sirius in turn, and then shrieked, "How can you have a son for the Black Line and still manage for us to have the magic, dolt?"

"Again, I'd have been inclined to tell you if you'd asked nicely," Sirius shot back. He observed that she did not react to his telling her that he had recently regained his freedom. That observation dissolved when Marlene shrieked again.

"What the f-ing hell do you mean that you are a free man again? What did you do? Hump Lady Nott? Steal Bagnold's daughter?"

Sirius was about to scathingly retort, when Jean moved in to calm the frayed tempers again. Apparently, the draught only stopped them from shouting. Sarcasm and scathing overtones to one's words were obviously out of the potion's ambit. "Will you two stop fighting? We decided that you were going to talk things out like mature individuals!"

She only received to mulish glares in response.

Massaging her forehead as the consternation she felt threatened to introduce her to another award-winning headache, she took a deep breath and spoke with affected patience. "Let's start over. You, Doctor aren't behaving professionally. One does not simply start a fight with a patient. I know what you were doing Sirius, and I have recently learnt that I knew a false person, so I'll start with Marlene. I have seen Harry take some oath or something to prove that he speaks the truth. Can't you do that?"

"I will if he will," Marlene snarled in response. The two swore their oaths. Marlene swore that she was really Marlene McKinnon, the Lady Black-in-waiting and that she wasn't Voldemort's minion and that she never followed either the man or what he espoused. Sirius swore a similar Oath.

"See? That wasn't too difficult, was it? There was no need to keep approaching a Mexican Standoff every two sentences," Jean chided the pair. Then specifically, she asked Marlene, "What happened to you, Marlene? How did you end up in this world, and as a therapist at that?"

Marlene frowned as she brought the answer up. "When I had to flee the magical world, I came into contact with my mother's muggle...What?" she snapped when Sirius made a face.

"Mundane, don't say muggle. It is derogatory."

"Oh, big words from you, Sirius," Marlene taunted. "Which of your girlfriends taught you that?"

"You know just as well, McKinnon, that I flirted around quite a bit, but never let things get to the stage where I had a serious girlfriend," Sirius retorted in a clipped tone. "Amelia and I fell in love while on duty. It was fraternisation. It's against protocol and decorum, I agree, but that is how it is. And by the way, Lord Slytherin was the one who told me that 'muggle' is a derogatory term."

Marlene's face paled. "You are in league with Lord Slytherin?" Then she frowned. "Who is Lord Slytherin? I thought YKW died! And you swore that you aren't in league with him!"

"For the record, my son is Lord Slytherin. Voldemort never was."

"Who's your son?" Marlene asked in frustration.

"Stop right there. We are going sequentially, so your little spat will have to wait. Maria, Marlene, whatever you want me to call you...I know Sirius is acting like a ten-year-old who happens to know a secret that others don't to frustrate and infuriate you so let's put that aside. Sirius adopted his godson Harry. He is Lord Slytherin and three more and Heir Black. He is your other patient, but we will come to that later. Can we stick to your story for now?"

Marlene obviously had several questions, but had to clamp down on them as Jean's irritation showed. She resumed her story after her escape from the magical world. "So after I came into the **_mundane_** world, armed with only the access to my family vault, I was in a quandary. I was but twenty one, and had no prospects. My family had been killed by Lucius Malfoy who had since gone scot free. He told me that he had been told about me by the Black Heir," he she glared daggers at Sirius, who promptly refuted that.

"Regulus might have told him about the betrothal. I never spoke to him since before Narcissa's marriage. He no longer poses you any danger, by the way. Harry killed the whole family – Cissy died a few days ago."

"He–what?" spluttered Marlene in shock.

"Later," Jean firmly ordered, yet again.

Marlene gave a very affected shrug and resumed her tale. "I didn't have any way in which I could secure meaningful employment in this world. I was destroyed. Lucius had also attempted to...put me into place. I ensured that he would never sire another child apart from the kid his wife was carrying."

"You should receive an Order of Merlin for that," Sirius muttered with much heat. Lucius had, even then, showed his true colours, and the House of Black had not struck him down. "It gave us less Malfoys to deal with."

"I needed help. So my cousin took me to a therapist as the mundane call them. I had to work around so many things. My father's allegiance to Dumbledore, my mother's partial **_mundane_** ancestry as a halfblood making me an outcast within my own family, my uncle and my grandfather being at odds with each other over their differing views on blood purity; it got too much even then. The war thereafter didn't do my disposition any wonders. I was all over the place. That man, Dr. Garfield Oldman, brought me back to an even keel over the next year."

Jean understood. She had expected such a sequence of events. What she still didn't understand was how she ended up being cast into the role of a mediator-cum-relationship counsellor for two people she only knew in passing, even though one of them was a newly minted cousin.

"We, like most pureblood families had a time turner in the family vault, bought as a status symbol – I have never known any magical to really use it, because they don't understand the concept of time as well as they claim to. Grandfather was still alive. So my Uncle had to be most cautious as he smuggled all my effects, three percent of the family vaults in liquid assets and the time turner for me to use. I used it all, working my way through the exams and college systematically. And here I am."

Then she gave the man she was betrothed to, and against whom she presumably held a grudge for being flirtatious and for getting betrothed to another woman, a superior and smug look, and asked, "So, what did you do?"

Sirius laughed a harsh, mirthless laugh.

Jean answered in his stead. "That's why he needs your help. Sirius was in that prison place you lot have got – the one that sounds similar to Azerbaijan."

"Azkaban?" gasped Marlene. "You were in Azkaban?"

"You didn't know? Wasn't I a murdering traitor?" Now Marlene had resorted to treating him like a fool, face-to-face. Did she think he could no longer catch the nuances of what people spoke, especially when _she_ could hardly ever prevent herself from speaking exactly what she thought and blurting out anything that she knew in a quarrel? There was a reason why Marlene would never be a secret-keeper for any abode. The Marlene he remembered had the propensity to throw away any secret and had a motor-mouth, throwing any past mistake or act into her opponent's face. As far as he could perceive, either the intervening years hadn't changed much, or she had slipped due to the shock of seeing him again.

Marlene had the good grace to blush at being caught. "When did you get out of Azkaban then?"

"It was all over the mundane news as well – I was a mass murderer 'carrying a metal wand that muggles use to kill each other' according to the Ministry release. Obviously they didn't know I was framed." At Jean's perplexed glance, he clarified, "A gun," eliciting a snort from her.

"That was about you? I thought it was some loon who'd escaped from the clutches of the authorities. Well that wasn't too far off a guess, was it?"

"Don't you get the Prophet?"

"Didn't want any magicals knowing where I was, particularly after You-Know-Who died, but his minions went unpunished..."

Sirius grunted. She knew that Lucius was free. He could hardly begrudge her the feeling of safety that the mundane world accorded.

"Dr McCraig – Marlene, please understand that there may be a conflict of interest in this case, given that you and your patient were supposed to be intimately related. Is there someone else that you could refer us to? Sirius, as you know, now, has a lot of residual effects to work through. Seeing that you aren't likely to be objective, it would be difficult for both of you."

Marlene's face twisted into a scowl. "You know, you have cast aspersions on my professionalism twice in the past hour. It doesn't endear you much. To answer your question, no, I don't honestly know any other therapist or psychiatrist who is in the know about magic. As for this lout, I have enough practice in dealing with him – I did that for close to fourteen years before I had to escape."

"You had to deal with me? Sorry to burst your bubble, but most of the dealing with me part was already done by Lily."

"Yes, she did do that, didn't she? Then you passed into the Bones woman's claws."

Sirius glared at her. "Yes Lils did. She was the person who kept us all sane. And yes. Yes I did pass into Amelia's 'claws', as you said. She shepherded me when I nearly got all my true family killed, and then consoled me when I killed to protect. She was there for every one of those eighty-six times that I took a life, unlike you, who toed Dumbledore's diktat. So don't go blaming Amelia!"

"Dumbledore was the only one who helped me, Black! Don't you –"

"He never did, McKinnon! It was James who helped you! The old codger would just shrug and clam up! Wouldn't say a word against old Bruce McKinnon! All the protections from "the Order" came personally from James! My brother looked out for us!"

Marlene sat back dumbfounded. "James was the one who took Dad and Mum under his protection?" she whispered. "I thought that the Order did!"

"James did it personally Marl... Dumbledore took the credit on that one. We have been facing one skeleton tumbling out of his cupboard after another, though truthfully, it wasn't really Dumbledore who stowed them in," Sirius replied. He sighed and looked weary – almost visibly aging to look closer to fifty than his age of thirty four. "You couldn't even begin to imagine what has been going on..."

"But..." she trailed off. Her long held beliefs regarding the situations just before and after the first fall of Voldemort were taking a hammering with a sledgehammer. She sat calmly. It was among those things that she had learnt. People don't react well to finding out that they were wrong or believed in something that was wrong.

"It's difficult no?" Sirius asked with another mirthless snort. "We are dealing with that every day."

The three sat in silence – Jean had been largely silent once the two had proven themselves to be innocent of any wrongdoing. Marlene glanced at her watch. It was just past six, and she didn't have any appointment for the day that would mean her needing to be in place till eight thirty. She had imagined this confrontation for years. Some part of it was as she had thought it would be – full of dramatic gestures, big statements and what-not. But a weary and serious Sirius was nowhere in **_that_** picture. "Sirius, is there a place where we can talk about this? Someplace where you, Jean and I can sit without being disturbed? We can talk this over in some place which is less officious..."

"Does Florean Fortescue's place seem alright?"

"Are you out of your mind? Can't we book a private parlour in the Leaky Cauldron?"

"The Leaky Cauldron was burnt down by Death Eaters Marlene. Two Aurors and several patrons were murdered when Avery and Gibbon cast Fiendfyre."

Marlene who had just risen out of her chair to gather her things, sat down heavily. "What?" she harshly whispered.

"On Equinox Day, the Ministry was forced by certain individuals to undertake what they now call The Equinox Purge against Death Eaters. Those two were escaping the same. They have since returned to their Master."

"What master?"

"Old snake-face of course," Sirius replied. "Voldemort is a Dark Lord, Marlene. The worst in several centuries, worse than Grindelwald, he is. What happened back in 1981 was for the longest time only a temporary setback. What is Death? – pffft," he mimed blowing a raspberry. Marlene almost rolled her eyes, but for the fact that she had just been given horrible news and the shudders it had caused. It was quintessential Sirius. Any matter could be made light of.

"That still doesn't solve the 'where'," Jean prompted. She had been to the Leaky Cauldron several times before. She could never fathom how that was considered a secure place by the magicals. Did magic make people stupid and complacent? "Can't we go to... to...," she trailed off with a grimace. "Why can't I say the name, Sirius?"

"Harry's the secret-keeper. Nobody else can say it. Were we to take her within the grounds, she wouldn't even be able to see the house."

"That is because of the protection charms?"

"Yes."

"Fidelius?" asked Marlene.

"Yes. Didn't I just say that Harry is the secret keeper?"

"Who owns the place?" Marlene pressed on, ignoring the irritation that Sirius allowed to seep into his words.

"He and I do. I bought half of it from him after I was exonerated. But the charm was put up before that."

"He could cast it?"

"Yes."

"Blimey!"

Sirius nodded. "We can go to Grimmauld Place. It's no longer that horrid place it was in my childhood."

"Before we go, though," interrupted Jean, "I really must ask the Doctor whether she can ensure a degree of professionalism." If the sparks had flown fast and furiously enough to ignite the atmosphere, the sudden mellowing down disoriented the woman.

Marlene looked at Jean with an indignant resignation. "I promise, Dr. Granger. I will be thoroughly professional."

* * *

And so it was that five minutes later, they were all sitting comfortably in the living room of 12, Grimmauld Place. The ladies were sat on a tasteful divan which did not reek of boastfully exorbitant opulence that Marlene remembered of the House of Black, while Sirius plopped onto a sofa chair gracelessly.

"Red, white, gold and blue, Sirius?" asked Jean as she looked about the room. Instead of looking like a stately place for 'Lord' Black, it looked more like a teenager's room. In fact there were posters haphazardly stuck across the hallway. A massive poster 'decorated' – a term she could only use very loosely – the entire wall running parallel to the staircase. Sirius saw where she was looking.

"There used to be the heads of the House-elves who served the House of Black in the past where that poster is now," Sirius defended the poster. "You should hear Kreacher protesting against it. It's almost as if I am making a public proclamation that I will be pissing on his grave or something." Jean shuddered. The poster now seemed beauteous indeed as far as home decorations went.

"But the colours?" she weakly protested.

"Home and away kits," Sirius replied in an offhand manner. "We have got colour changing charms of course for when they change for next season."

Jean frowned. It was symptomatic, she thought, of the fact that the thirty three year old Sirius being overridden by the twenty one year old that he was before Azkaban. A man his age, would, under normal circumstances, be worried about his children, or moving up in his business or job or whatever. It wasn't very surprising though, considering that he had no children, and the business he conducted did not exactly allow him to have photographs with important colleagues.

David and she had been to The Marauders' Place several times since his exoneration. They had come away worried, for Sirius often behaved like a jobless bum. A discussion with Amelia had told them that she was worried as well. The Sirius that Amelia remembered was ambitious. He wanted to be the best Auror out there with James. He wanted to be the best godfather possible to James' and Lily's kid. He wanted to help several of Lily's dreams for the progress of the magical world become reality. What they saw now was a Mayfly in terms of his interests pursued. It would be restructuring banking one week, enthusiastically learning about the mundane systems, and then it would be government the next, when he would, instead of actually trying to understand the local councils, stare around in wonder.

The version of Sirius that they now had on their hands was drifting. Sure, he was diligently going through motions of the Garnarukro Bill, something that Harry was going to do but Amelia had put on Sirius' shoulders instead. But he showed no initiative, no will to go out there and stake his claim on any sort of work of importance by himself. It was almost as if all his ambitions had died with James and Lily.

Even worse though was the fact that he showed indecisiveness in almost every endeavour, or was always happy to let someone else lead or take the important decisions. Twice when someone had asked him for his opinion on things in her presence, or for suggestions on the way that things should be done, Jean had seen Sirius shrink away or try to put up ridiculous suggestions that would always be construed as jokes. He shied away from contributing.

"So now, talk," Marlene commanded. "What's been happening?"

"You want the recent or current events or the full history of the past thirteen years?" Sirius asked dryly.

"Both, really," Marlene answered. "But I can understand that you will have a very different perspective to everyone else."

"That's true," Sirius concurred. "You'd have to talk to a lot of different people. The only two people immediately at hand who we know and can tell you what happened before I was broken out are Minerva, and...Amelia."

Marlene stiffened. "I think Minerva shall do, for the time being," she replied neutrally, eliciting a nod from Sirius.

"I surmised as much," he said.

A bout of silence was followed by Marlene's question. "Tell me about your trial." If Sirius needed help, and had recently been exonerated, Marlene decided that she would have to address the bitterness festering from the scab of a lost trial.

"What trial?" Sirius asked with a derisive snort. "I never had one." Marlene stared at him in patent disbelief. "What?" Sirius shot back. "You don't believe it? The House of Black has sued the Ministry heavily. I am owed about a hundred thousand galleons per year of illegal incarceration along with payment as an Auror for all those years. The whole package comes around to one and a quarter million, after taxes of course." The ladies gaped at the number, and then shook their heads in unison.

Flicking open a small notepad which had a ball pen attached to it, Marlene made a note of the fact, as well as the time. Glancing at Jean, she said, "Would you please leave us for, say, thirty minutes or an hour? I expect to talk to you as well."

* * *

Jean nodded and left – only to meet Marlene who was sitting in the room she was supposed to sit in. Marlene explained the mechanics of time travel to the bewildered woman and got her talking. Jean duly and objectively recorded her observations about Sirius.

"You knew it was going to come to this, didn't you?" Marlene accused.

"Given his story, there was never any doubt that he would need professional help. Hermione and Harry are very good friends. I honestly believe that Harry will need Sirius well enough when the time comes for us all to help that boy – man – deal with his demons. Sirius can't help him if he isn't helped himself."

"Oh?"

"I am not sure that I can really explain those circumstances to you properly. I don't truly understand them myself."

Marlene nodded. Facts always superseded speculation.

"Does Sirius know that?"

"Yes. I managed to convince him that they both needed help and that Harry would need Sirius' support when the time comes for him to receive the help he so desperately needs. I can't see the way to convincing him. Maybe Sirius can manage that."

"So Harry is a major nerve-ending...not surprising. James probably didn't show Harry as much love as Sirius did when he was a baby. Then again, Sirius didn't have disciplining duties."

Jean said nothing, but Marlene caught her barely there scowl at the mention of 'disciplining duties'. Things were getting far more intriguing than Marlene had bargained for.

* * *

While Marlene was talking to Jean, Marlene was also attempting to get Sirius to spill his secrets. "I am going to charge you." Her directness was one of the things that Sirius had appreciated.

"Wouldn't expect it any other way," Sirius replied. "You are providing professional help. Of course you should be compensated for your time and knowledge!"

"So, Sirius, tell me about Azkaban," she demanded bluntly, now all business, setting aside every smidgen of excitement, shock, surprise, anger, fear, resentment... Merlin, she would probably need a dose of her own medicine before the day was out.

"Aren't you supposed to be understanding and all?" the pad-footed one shot back.

"For normal people, yes, I have to be. But Azkaban may well be a wound for you that might have gone far deeper than anyone can imagine, and it will get infected. I would rather that it heals. That means that even if I have to remove a partially pus-filled scab off painfully and dab it with a disinfectant, I will."

Kreacher, newly reformed and regained as the loyal elf of the House of Black, popped in with a butterbeer for each of the guests, anticipating light fortification. Sirius sent him an appreciative nod.

"Do you know the circumstances in which I was thrown into Azkaban?"

"It is as good a place to start as any."

"It does seem so, doesn't it? Yet, that isn't the true starting place. The point in time when the problems started was actually in late 1979. It was when Dumbledore was cursed by Volde-mongrel."

"When did you find out about this – after or before you were arrested and subsequently escaped?"

"We found out this past summer."

"Then tell me about it later. You may have attempted to put things into perspective based on this new information, but that is again something that will bury the real reactions, thoughts and your mental state of the previous twelve years in a recess of your mind, which will flare unexpectedly. We need to purge that poison."

Sirius took a large gulp of the liquid, before resuming his telling of the ordeal. "We had set up linked safe houses for Peter and me, and even though he did not know about it, Moony as well. We were always worried about Pettigrew being captured and tortured or his mind broken into or him being imperiused... so many ways in which the Fidelius idea could have gone wrong through no fault of the people involved in protecting the Potters, and we considered every fucking twelve of them that we could think of. And that was where we went wrong."

"You refused to acknowledge the idea of one of you betraying you wilfully, even though you suspected Remus of being the spy."

"Yes," Sirius replied harshly, before giving Marlene a very apologetic look. "We had several alarms, notifications and every damn thing we could think of in place. And they all went blaring into the night. Peter was far more cunning than we ever gave him credit for. He set his alarms into action twenty minutes before Voldemort attacked James, Lily and Harry. I got to Peter's place almost instantly. There was no response. I searched around to no avail. In just those ten minutes, Voldemort had breached the perimeter ward that James and I had set on a quarter square kilometre space. And I was not there!"

"You were at Pettigrew's place, trying to help who you thought to be a friend, Sirius. Of course you weren't there..."

"No! You don't understand! Had I been at my home, then I would have heard the alarms from the stones. I wasn't there!" Sirius stood and stomped around the room in anguish, anguish such that he couldn't put into words. He was getting increasingly frantic as he paced about the large room, in an unconscious, but fair approximation of the pacing he had done that night in 1981.

"I should have gone straight to James! All of us had sworn to put Prongslet and Lils and James above ourselves! As soon as I was notified that Peter was in danger, I should have gone straight to Godric's Hollow and gotten them out of there. We could have found Peter later!" Marlene started making a note of everything that had happened and the 'should have' situation that Sirius was describing. "By the time I returned, the alarms...the alarms on, on..." Sirius started to continue, but he couldn't get the words out of his mouth. He took several sharp deep breaths, before Marlene realised what was happening. Sirius was hyperventilating.

"Sirius!" she called. His panic continued. "SIRIUS!" she yelled this time, again to no avail. Fearing that things might go out of hand, she stunned Sirius and called Kreacher.

"Miss Kinny!" acknowledged the elf shrilly.

"Sirius is ill, Kreacher. Please go and get me a calming draught, fast!"

"Yes Miss Kinny!"

It took ten more minutes before Sirius was calm enough to continue. "Where was I?"

"You were telling me how you should have relegated Peter possibly being tortured to the backburner, and instead should have gone and retrieved James and Lily."

"I rather wish that he was tortured before he was killed, the fucker!" Sirius muttered darkly. "He only got the Dementor's Kiss."

Marlene noted that down as well, with an addendum: ' _Closure gained?'_

"The little shit had disabled the alarms at his place. With no obvious signs of an attack or anything, I went to my place, where there was a din. I instantly realised what had happened. I rushed to Godric's Hollow only to see...to see that everything was – was gone." Even the calming draught did not have its full effect on Sirius as he relived that part of that horrible night, arguably the worst of his life, matched only by his time in Azkaban.

It was not easy for her to stop herself from switching seats and giving him a hug, their estrangement notwithstanding. The former prisoner looked extremely vulnerable. She could only look on in pity and sympathy at Sirius as he once again grieved for two of his best friends instead of wrapping him in a hug, an act of reassurance that she thought he sorely needed. Sirius was shaking with silent sobs all over again. He had let it out the first night he had spent at The Marauders' Place, but it was with the understanding that he was in the company of the person whom he considered to be the most affected by the deaths of Lily and James. He was both right and wrong in a way.

Harry had only known of Lily and James as people, or as some sort of ideal figures. For Sirius, Remus, even Bones, and all their group of friends, Lily and James were living, breathing people with quirks, nuances, flaws and merits, hopes and dreams. Four words had ended two very beautiful people, and the effects had percolated across the board in terms of number of the people and the extent to which they had been affected.

"Why did that have to happen, Marl? What wrong did they ever do to anyone?" he sobbed. "Why did they have to die? Why did Peter have to betray them? We loved him like our brother Marl! Why?"

Marlene was truly at a loss. They may not have been as close friends of hers as they were of Sirius, but they were well-loved within the Order. And anything that she may have wanted to say to calm Sirius would have fallen flat. There was very little that words could convey that would act as a balm for him. Sometimes, despite her education and position as a therapist, Marlene found herself inadequate. It was what she was currently experiencing.

"Sometimes there really are no answers to such questions Sirius. You might as well start with the question: why did You-Know-Who exist at all? These why's, the what if's they will only cause more pain."

"Must've been in the books, no?" Sirius asked with a mirthless snort.

"That doesn't mean that the books are wrong, Sirius," Marlene retorted.

Sirius just huffed.

"How did you find them?"

"I rushed off to Godric's Hollow, of course. The whole place was blown apart. James and Mouldy-Shorts had evidently duelled – there were scorch marks all around the living room. But James' body was in the doorway, you know. I'd – I'd never seen Prongs' face so blank, so bereft of expression. He was always smiling or laughing if he was happy and was just as expressive otherwise. But that last time that I saw him, James was expressionless and his eyes were all glassy, unseeing."

The calming draught was evidently doing its work for Sirius could speak it all out in one go.

"And then?" Marlene prompted.

"The staircase was partially blown apart as well. It was difficult to go up. I scoured the rooms. You remember I had a room next to the nursery and opposite James and Lily's? It was the only one that was intact to any level, except one wall. That was one grotesque viewing area. Prongslet was in his crib, with Lils slumped down on the floor, one hand still clutching at a lower bar. Her body was lying at an odd angle. And her eyes...had you ever known of anyone being able to resist remarking on her eyes, Marl? They were the sort that drew you in. They were always so brilliant...and they were vacant, all life gone out of them..."

Sirius had to once more resort to harsh deep breaths to regain his composure. He could still remember the scene like it was yesterday, or even a few minutes prior. He would, after all. It was the worst day of his life.

"Prongslet was crying you know. He was calling out to her, patting the hand that had the cold grip on the crib. He was bleeding from that accursed scar. He was looking altogether so little, innocent, and pained. It was horrible. I remember every moment I spent. I am sure I was crying."

 _"_ _Pafoo'" called the baby tearfully, reaching out his little arms towards the crying man who had stumbled through into the room. "Pafoo'!" called Harry. "Mumma sweep!" he called, pointing to the dead body of Lily Potter. "Mumma not wake!"_

 _The man automatically reached out to the baby with shaking arms, lifting him gently and holding him close. 'Pafoo'' sank to the ground beside the body of the child's mother, his tears mixing with that of the baby. How long they sat thus, the man didn't know, but it didn't matter. He was supposed to help protect them and he had failed. He had failed._

 _"_ _I am sorry, Prongslet," blubbered Padfoot, as he clutched the baby closer to himself._

"A while later, Hagrid turned up. He had come to pick Harry."

"Hagrid?" asked Marlene with a frown. "What was Hagrid doing there? He can't even perform any magic! And how did he know Harry was alive?"

"Very good questions," Sirius commended. "You remember that I told you that there were some real howler monkeys up Dumbledore's tree? This was one of those things. How could Hagrid whom nobody had told the secret to be there?"

Marlene gasped. At the moment she had relinquished her therapist-and-counsellor hat and was being drawn into the story. It always worked for her, because her patients – for lack of a better word – were encouraged by the apparent curiosity. This time, though, as Jean had reminded her, the situation and the players were both things and people she was personally invested in.

"What did it do?"

"I am Prongslet's Oath Bound Godfather, and now adoptive father, Marl. I was also an Auror, so even though I had lost my head temporarily, I was well cognisant of the fact that my first duty was towards my child. Why would I give the baby over to a half giant who wasn't allowed to perform magic and who could keep secrets about as well as a torn bag?"

"Why indeed?"

"It was to encourage me to cede custody of Harry, maybe, or something to ensure that I would be put away...we don't know. The end result was that I, one of the best Aurors of the time, lost my mind and reason completely and went after a wild rat chase, if you care for that description. And then, I ended up losing against a Pettigrew. The rat took me by surprise."

"Is it probable that you are – were – underestimating him?"

"I killed eighty six people, Marlene. Some were barely seventeen, and without training. And I had Mad-Eye for my mentor. Believe me, I have never, ever, underestimated anyone in a fight, particularly if it was a person I hated as much I hated Wormtail at that moment and ever since."

"Describe the fight, will you?"

Sirius looked at the woman thoughtfully. "I will go one better. This is something we tried when it was decided that I should check out of Chateau Azkaban." He shared with her the incident, taking care to experience the odd 'treacle treading' that he had first realised that first time he had shared with Harry.

"My professional opinion aside," Marlene commented, "I can truthfully say that you were a much better fighter than that."

"I was cursed."

"What?"

"It was an advanced form of the Impedimenta jinx. At least, that is what we have surmised till now. My cognitive, reaction and all other brain processes were curiously dulled, as were my physical reactions. I was essentially in slow motion inside out."

"Who would do such a thing?"

"Someone who stood to gain from keeping me away from Prongslet," replied Sirius. "It was Dumbledore. The best we have guessed, Prongslet and I, is that Hagrid was a vector of some sort of mind-control spell cast by Dumbledore, targeted at me. Either that, or Dumbledore was there in person."

"What? It can't be!" Marlene immediately refuted the very idea that Dumbledore would do such a thing. Then she thought for a moment and another thought struck her. "And he wasn't there!" protested Marlene.

" _I_ don't _remember_ seeing him, Marlene," Sirius corrected her. "He is the only person who could have done that. Unless of course, there is some proof to state Wormtail or another Death Eater was still there. And there seemed no reason for a Death Eater to be there before me and not hurt Harry." Then Sirius froze.

There was a Death Eater who had visited Godric's Hollow after Voldemort's attack. The greasy one had confessed to that himself in those memories he had given Harry in his last act in the original timeline. Snivellus had known that Peter was the traitor. Of course he knew – Snivellus had turned Peter to their side in the first place. But he must have known that Peter was the secret-keeper. How else could he have reached the cottage and entered it without being disoriented? Sirius would have seethed, but for the fact that both, the rat and the bat were dead.

"What is it?"

"There were two Death Eaters, even though I don't remember seeing them, who were present there – Pettigrew, and Snape."

"Snape?" asked Marlene in confusion.

"Never mind," Sirius remarked. "There are a few things that are under the ambit of the Official State Secret Acts, and Severus and his deeds are among them. It wasn't Dumbledore – at least not directly."

"What do you mean?"

"In spite of the fact that you have asked me to not do so, I think that this is an opportune place to tell you, that, Voldemort had cursed Dumbledore with a Black Family Curse." Before Marlene could ask how Voldemort came upon the curse, Sirius explained, "Quite obviously, Bella thought it was wise to divulge family secrets to her Master. Rest assured that she will not have a chance to do so again. The last of the scum maligning the family name will soon be served her just desserts." Marlene nodded. "So well, Voldemort had cursed Dumbledore. Severus kept the control going on while Voldemort was otherwise engaged in preserving his presence on the mortal plane as a wraith."

"Merciful heavens!" swore Marlene. "No wonder we nearly lost the war in last two years. What did the Curse do?"

"It kept Dumbledore as Dumbledore – except it wasn't the Dumbledore that wanted to win the war with as many of us alive, well and protected. It was the unscrupulous part of him. It accentuated his negative traits to such a level that they became a personality on their own. That curse is the soft and insidious form of the Imperius. It takes away the dissenting voice of the subconscious."

Marlene was horror struck. Sirius continued explaining the situation.

"When initially we were breaking down his manipulations, we were determined to cast him as evil. Snape's death though brought out the real truth. It was when we found out." Sirius could hardly say that they found the truth from a phoenix and a grim reaper.

The shrink interrupted here. "You said you – that is to say, a collective you – went over all the deeds of people that ended up with the fiasco of that time, yes?"

"Yes."

Marlene noted it down. "You find something new that can be attributed to the problematic intruders like Snape almost every time you talk to someone new about it?"

"Yes."

"You, the people that are involved, have some proficiency in Occlumency?"

"Yes."

That was noted as well. "Continue."

"Where was I?"

"You came to the realisation that it was Snape and _probably_ not Dumbledore who cursed you."

"Yes. So after the bombing of Birmingham, I was thrown straight into Azkaban. Just like that," Sirius added, snapping his clicking two fingers against each other to illustrate the ridiculous ease. "And then there was nothing."

"Describe 'nothing'."

"It was...nothing. There was just cold, sadness, anger against Peter, against Bella because she had attacked the Longbottoms, against everyone who connived to put me behind bars without even a trial, grief for Prongs and Lily, and worry for Prongslet."

"Most people go mad there, Sirius, and that's even without what was going through your mind. How did you remain sane?"

"Part of it was because of Padfoot. The animal's emotions and thoughts are so basal; the Dementors don't even give animals a second glance. The other part was the fact that I **_knew_** that I was innocent."

The doctor immediately made a note of it.

"Who were the people you felt betrayed by?"

Sirius pondered over that. "Nobody, initially," he answered. "But as time went by, I wondered why Moony, Amelia, even you – in spite of the fact that you were dead to the best of my knowledge, Dumbledore, or Moody, never came around to even ask why I betrayed the Potters. It made me very angry. I also was more than a bit angry at Andromeda. At least she, with a lawyer for a husband, and knowing me for so many years shouldn't have accepted things as they were. Those were, to my mind, my only chances."

"Did they?"

"No."

"So who broke you out?"

"Harry. You may ask how, and I can answer that. The short answer is that the little squirt decided that his last DADA teacher, an ex-Obliviator, part-time narcissistic, self-aggrandising, story-book-masquerading-as-defence-textbook writer and full-time fraud was an excellent inspiration to learn some of the tricks of said teacher's previous, Ministry licensed, sanctioned and paid for trade, to link his mind to mine and share his Patroni, and the effects that the Dementors had on me, courtesy of seventh year Charms texts and a Mastery thesis. If you ask how he knew, I can tell you that I know the answer to that, but I **_can't_** tell you that. It is part of the Official Secrets as deemed by the DMLE. What I can tell you, though, is that I am extremely proud of the facts that he is powerful, the youngest caster of the Patronus Charm that I know of, and – most importantly - that I'm one of his Patroni."

"Multiple?" asked Marlene in awe. Truthfully, she was in awe of the fact that Sirius could speak a seventy four word (not counting the hyphenated description) sentence at the speed he did without stumbling over either the pronunciation or the grammar, as well.

"Yes. I am one – as Padfoot, that is. A stag represents James and Lily, one stands for Hermione, one for Moony, and one represents himself. I can ask him to show you them." Marlene noted the paternal pride in Sirius' voice. He really did love Harry as his own son.

"Apart from worrying about him, did you wish for Harry to seek you out?" Marlene decided that the whole business was so murky; the plot might as well have been hatched in a marsh. How exactly did a thirteen year old break one of the highest security prisoners out of a place nobody had ever escaped before? The 'short description' made no sense, really.

"Partly, yes," Sirius admitted. "But since the adults who should have been responsible for him didn't, I assumed they did not tell me about him. Turns out none of those people were in charge of Harry either."

"Has he had problems with the failings of the people?"

"Yes."

"Is he the one you have gone over all the nitty-gritty of everyone's actions, **_every time_**?"

"Yes."

"How many of those people are in a situation to still cause you problems?"

"Barring Voldemort and his minions, none," Sirius answered.

"Do you think of those who can't cause you problems anymore?"

"Yes."

"Are any of those who caused problems to either of you in contact still?"

Sirius had to consider the question. The Weasleys came to mind, but it was a case he could not truly predict the outcome of. So he answered in affirmative.

The Lady Black-designate noted that down as well.

"How have your interactions with those around you been?"

Sirius was silent for a while. How were they, really? "Since being broken out, I have been around Harry, Minerva McGonagall, Amelia and her niece Susan, Andromeda, Ted, and their daughter Nymphadora, and Remus. There are also Augusta and Neville Longbottom, and David, who is my very distant cousin, his wife Jean, and their daughter Hermione." He paused, unsure how to really answer her question.

"Let's start with the last three. Have they accepted you?"

"Yes. Andromeda was contracted to be the Potions Professor for Harry and Neville. He brought her around to where we are living. She started healing me then. Ted and his associates were the ones who were my legal representatives, again put on retainer by Prongs." Marlene noted that Sirius was a bit fluid with his references to his son, and had not realised it. Then she found out that he had realised it as he continued, "Prongslet, I mean." So he slipped up every once in a while but was cognisant of the difference. "Dora still is my favourite littlest cousin."

Marlene took a deep breath before the next prompt. "What is your relationship with Amelia?"

"It's just what it was supposed to be. Amelia was trying within the system to get to me, to be able to get visitation rights at the very least. She was slapped with the 'conflict of interest' clause of the Auror and Law Enforcement Code of Conduct. Again, when His Majesty, Lord Director Ragnok Goldblood asked his honorary citizen and councilman to reveal the truth regarding the prisoner entrusted to the Nation by said councilman, Amelia finally had the chance to meet me in person. She, I and Harry are working to cleanse the Ministry. Otherwise, Amelia is my fiancée and we are just as...close. Susan is my niece-to-be."

Marlene's grip on her pen and pad tightened for slight moment, but she showed no other sign of resentment or anger.

"How did McGonagall come into the picture?"

"She was James' oath bound godmother. She is as close as a real grandmother to Harry." _The family was brought together by and revolves around Harry_ , Marlene noted. "I had no particular contact with her after school. But either way, even if we had, I resent her presence to a degree."

"Why?"

"She abrogated her responsibilities as a grandmother – a role that she is too happy to play now. Not only was she absent during Harry's childhood when the people he was kept with abused him physically, emotionally and mentally, she was the one who deposited him there. The woman was the first among a long list of people culpable of rejection. The treatment was just as bad as mine at the hands of my parents – probably worse."

Making a different column under the heading 'Harry', she noted, _abused child_. "Why do you think she has been brought into the fold?"

"I asked. Harry admitted to me, that she was useful. I am not entirely sure that he cares for her much, but he surely can keep up that act around her rather well."

 _Knows and accepts that he is among the few trusted by an abused child_ , Marlene observed about Sirius. Under the 'Harry' column, she noted, _has manipulative tendencies and may develop a tendency to consider people dispensable or disposable, as for Minerva._ That, with the retrospective note about him being powerful, worried the Doctor a bit. That worry was only partially balanced by the idea of him having anchors in his life – the people that the Patroni stood for. Then again under Sirius, she added _"subject is_ _bolstered by the knowledge that he is an anchor."_

"How are things with Remus?"

"Moony was one of the people I wished would protest against my incarceration. He didn't. But I thought of him as a traitor as well, so I can't be the pot calling the kettle Black, when he is so patently Lupin," Sirius answered with a grin. "But I sometimes still feel angry. It's good that he isn't around enough for me to vent that anger."

 _"_ _Residual bitterness with attempts at dissociation to cope with it"_ , was the next note in the notepad.

"What about the Longbottoms?"

"I don't know. It is a cordial acquaintance. I was good friends with Frank and Alice, but Augusta intimidates me. Neville is more like a brother to Harry, so he was always around, and then that was it. By the way, you will have to talk to him. Barty Crouch Jr. was among those who helped crucify his parents into madness. Neville killed him the other day."

Marlene's eyes widened. Alice had been a childhood friend, and she had been very angry at the fate that befell her. However, she had known of the Crouch boy being sent to Azkaban. What was he doing outside?

"Crouch Sr. Broke him out of Azkaban," Sirius pre-emptively answered the unasked question.

Marlene's brow creased as she flipped the page and made a column for Neville. What were these dysfunctional people doing, exactly? What sort of madness was being perpetuated whereby a thirteen-year-old was allowed to be anywhere around a situation involving high profile murderous criminals?

"What have you been doing these past weeks since you broke out and then were exonerated?"

Sirius gave an account of his involvement with the new Garnarukro Law and Treaty, with details about the people involved, his impressions about them, what he had brought to the table and what they had brought to the table, and where he thought the discussions were heading, in very general terms so as to not leak any delicate decisions, but at the same time give enough of a glimpse regarding what the new administration's stand was going to be. Marlene noted that there was definite enthusiasm in his voice as he talked about it all.

"Is there something that you have been itching to do, but you have restrained yourself on account of some other promise of something?"

Sirius looked angry and glared at everything including her for a minute before letting out a sigh. "Yes. I told you that the Dursleys abused Harry. He has bought their house out from under them, but otherwise has left them alone. I want to punish them, but he won't let me," he complained.

"Why do you want to punish them?"

Sirius looked at her incredulously. "What do you mean? Didn't I tell you that they hurt him?"

"No. No, you misunderstand me, Sirius. Why do _you_ want to punish them? What has _he_ done to punish them? Why is it that punishing them is so important to _you_? Why is the action of _you_ meting punishment to them so necessary?"

"He is my son! He is my little pup! They hurt him! Of course I want to hurt them back! They were asked to take care of them while I was indisposed!"

Marlene gave him a gimlet eye. She could be blunter than pestle and mortar set if she wished to. "Do you want to punish them because they hurt him, or because they are one more sign of what you perceive as your failure as a godfather?"

Sirius' mouth flapped open and then shut with an audible snap. That happened once, then another time. "NO!" he finally growled, harshly. "No!" He stood up and started to walk away in indignation, before his shoulders drooped and he slumped back into his chair, a picture of morose defeat. He took his time before looking back at Marlene with a bleak expression.

"It may not be the whole reason, but it is a part of it, isn't it?" asked the woman softly. "Perhaps the reason you believed to be true and the reason you have been forced to accept are both true?"

Kreacher, who had been lurking outside the room, having been attuned to his Master's moods and needs, popped in silently and replaced the butterbeer bottles.

Sirius ran a hand wearily up his face and heaved a sigh. Marlene nodded. Realising that this was the closest to a 'yes' that she would get from Sirius, she noted, _"feelings of inadequacy as a parent. Subject believes himself to be a failure. Residual anger exists. Anger is partially projected on parties involved in incarceration of subject and on previous 'guardians' of abused child. Child does not blame subject."_ Then a thought struck her. "Was the punishment intended to be violent and brutal?" she asked. It would be entirely in keeping with Sirius' upbringing and nature.

"No. It would have skirted the very edge of legality but it would most certainly not ever be violent. I know why I shouldn't be violent." He sneered at the Dursleys whom he could only see in his mind's eye as he said, "Besides, I would never be a brutal beast. I am not a Dursley." " _Abuse"_ was silently upgraded to " _murderous violence"_ in the little notepad.

Sirius' face assumed a very determined expression. "I have got this second chance to care for Harry. I am not going to squander it on some half-arsed quest for brutal revenge. Contrary to the popular notion, I do tend to think before I act."

"Like before you sent Snape to face Moony?" Marlene asked snidely, before she could stop herself.

"I think we have already established that Snape was a rotten scumbag. That said, I must say that I felt revolted by what I did, but only on account of Moony. I regret that deeply. It could have cost us Remus, and it will remain something that will always be a blot on my conscience. I would like to think that I have grown up since then, however."

Dr. McCraig smiled at that proclamation. The delusions one could possess... "Grown up indeed," she thought to herself, before reminding herself for the umpteenth time since the start of the interview, that she was allowing past experiences to cloud her professional judgement.

"Did you tell him that?"

"Are you encouraging me?"

"No. I am gauging the level of contact you two have."

Sirius only smirked in response.

"I will lodge a protest against that course of action," Marlene scolded. She then flipped a page to a fresh one. "Anyway, I want you to describe a usual week for you since your exoneration."

"Hmm...A usual week eh?" muttered Sirius. "A usual week will have me getting a letter every Monday from Harry. Since he is at Hogwarts, and also biologically underage, he cannot exactly attend the Wizengamot sessions. I am his proxy for the Potter seat. He sends similar letters to Marybeth Watson, Amanda Smith and Kenneth Lestrade, who are the proxies for the Gryffindor, Slytherin and Peverell seats."

"Bloody hell!" swore Marlene softly, as she made a note, _"Has Political power as well!"_ She looked at Sirius with an astounded expression. "What are these letters about?"

"To the others, it is always about the votes that he wishes to be cast on his behalf. They are practically identical. At the moment, due to The Equinox Purge, all the Houses which had the sitting member in service of Voldemort have been debarred. So we are practically assured of having most of the discussions, laws and bills going our way. The letters to me are about the set of reforms we agree are necessary. He gives me a framework, then I find the faults, he sends me the corrections. This goes back and forth till we can find a solution that either is acceptable to all or a fair compromise."

"Does that take up much of your time?"

"A good part of my time, yes," Sirius accepted. "The designated proxies then meet once we have an acceptable deal to present. I explain things to them. Then they go over the drafts along with their independent legal advisors. Tuesdays and Wednesdays are devoted to the meetings with Ministry and Gringotts' representatives. Then I visit the businesses that have investments by any of our six Houses on Thursdays. Fridays and weekends are free."

"How much of this work has been pushed onto you, either because Bones convinced you or because of another reason?"

"Well the Garnarukran – the Goblins that is – wanted Harry for the negotiations, but Amelia put that onto me because Prongslet would be overworked. And I already knew that till Prongslet remains a student, the House business would be under my purview."

"So what have you been doing off your own accord?"

"Sorry?"

"You have taken up important work, Sirius, but it is at the behest of others. What have you taken up yourself? What are _you_ interested in?"

"It interests me!" Sirius retorted, with only the slight delay that one trained to detect it would notice.

"I see."

"It does."

"Okay."

"It really does!"

"I don't doubt it. You are not answering my question. What activity of your own interest have you undertaken off your own accord? It may not necessarily be related to work, you know."

Sirius did not answer for a considerable while. "I have been getting Jean and David to teach me about banking and the local council bodies."

"So do reforms interest you?"

"Yes." There was a note of hesitation in Sirius' words.

 _"_ _Indecision,"_ noted the doctor. _"Subject does not express self and is likely to fall in with orders."_

"Where do you meet the people? Where do you work?"

"The meetings are always in the Westlands Chambers in Clover Alley. They are always considered to be neutral ground by Goblins and Humans alike. The meetings with the other proxies take place in the same place. Otherwise I am generally at home."

"Let me get this straight. You spend upwards of ninety hours 'at home' out of a possible hundred and sixty eight?"

"Uh...yes."

"I see." She noted that as well. "What was your motivation to seek help?"

This was a question that Sirius had an answer immediately ready for. "Harry needs help. He needs it a lot. He has killed four people in the past six months, all legally. It is not good for him. He is off on a quest for revenge. I can see it hurting him. I told you that Neville killed Crouch Jr. didn't I? Well, Harry attempted the Cruciatus Curse on the little beast because it seemed for a moment during the confrontation that he was about to kill me. And I know for a fact that he has some other issues which he will need help for, but which cannot be revealed before Voldemort is dealt with once and for all."

"Is he angry?"

"He is angry all the time, I think."

Another note was recorded under the ' _Harry'_ heading. "Where does your getting help come into the picture? Understand; I am only trying to understand the situation."

"Jean thinks that I must have issues due to Azkaban that will prevent me from being useful enough for Harry when the time comes. I am having problems understanding him often, you know. At the moment I am ready to do almost anything to know my pup properly and to get him to calm a bit."

Marlene finally nodded. She had enough to build upon. There were several issues that needed to be addressed, but at the moment, she had to cure the symptoms before she could start to work on the real ailment.

"I think I have some pointers that you could use, you know."

"I am all ears."

"First of all, buy some office space. Get yourself out of the house. It will make you freer."

"But the books and scrolls..."

"Sirius you have an elf at hand. I know for a fact that Kreacher doesn't seem to have much work. Get him to help. You can also build a magical retrieval system. So don't give me that tripe about accessibility."

Sirius sheepishly smiled and nodded.

"Secondly, stop thrusting your fingers into too many pies at once. You will end up with nothing. With the negotiations and the drafts, you have got solid things going. Build upon that. Become comfortable with what you are supposed to do. Once your more pressing responsibilities as a negotiator and Lord Black are successfully handled, you can start to widen your interests."

"Alright," Sirius mulishly conceded.

"Thirdly, pursue some sort of hobby. It could be writing about the matches, music, or riding that damned motorbike of yours – do you still have it?"

"I do."

"Hmm... Well you might get the point. Do it."

"I will," Sirius promised.

"Good! Now I see that you and Harry both have a lot of vitriol coursing through you due to the constant reminders about the hurt that other people have caused you. I am not asking you to forgive them or to forget that hurt. But consistently mulling over that will eat away at your minds all the time."

"What should we do then?"

"Make a list of everything that you have so far found. Then write down who did what, and whether they can hurt you anymore. I am pretty sure that barring Voldemort, who is a threat to everybody, you will find no real antagonist."

Sirius nodded as he realised the truth of that statement.

"Burn those sheets of paper. Make that a symbolic act of getting over your past. Understand that what has already happened in the past won't hurt you anymore, because you have realised what has happened, and have taken steps to correct the problems. Don't cling to those problems just because it leaves you someone to blame."

"Okay."

"Once you do that, write a daily note of any event that triggers a relapse – any event that makes you think of the things you have written on that sheet. Then meditate. Affirm to yourselves that those things no longer have the power to hurt you unless you cling to them and allow them to."

Sirius nodded. A bonfire of the past seemed such a good idea.

"Above all, remember, the past can't hurt you again."

"The past can't hurt us again," Sirius parroted, before he gave Marlene a genuine smile. "Thanks Marl."

"Don't thank me yet, Sirius. We will need to monitor your progress."

"I'll need another appointment?"

"Two weeks from now, same time," Marlene replied absently.

"Two weeks," Sirius confirmed. He then quickly got up and hugged the woman and kissed her on the cheek, shocking the woman. "Thanks again Marl."

* * *

While Sirius went home considerably lighter that day, Marlene's carefully constructed and maintained walls which had shut of him and the magical world as a whole had received a massive tremor and she could see the cracks. As she crashed into her bed in her flat later that night, she moaned, "Why now, you idiot? Why did you have to come back now?"

She was by no means willing to forgive him or his betrayal (she needed some advice as well, sometimes), but the truth had thawed at least the tip of the iceberg.


	44. Chapter 44

**As the year dies...**

A/N: This is the last of this story that Cannons ever wrote and is posted on the date he intended to. There was supposed to be one more, but he never got around to completing it, and I can't bring myself to do so yet. This chapter is M-A-S-S-I-V-E.

* * *

 _"_ _This is unbecoming of you, Harry," Cassiopeia said in a soothing, yet disappointed voice._

 _"_ _I know." Harry was morose. He really hated disappointing her. She had helped him where and when she could, and he had realised it. There were several instances where she had been the unseen, uncelebrated maternal figure in his life. She wasn't his Mum, but she had been truly there for him. As much as she could within the boundaries of her existence, Cassiopeia had helped him out, interfering in the physical world as well. "I am sorry. I just saw the wand pointed at Sirius and all my hatred for the Death Eaters, particularly Bellatrix, came pouring out."_

 _"_ _At least Sirius was clever about it. He stunned you before you could make that mistake. Apologise to him, though. He thinks that you are angry with him because he stopped you."_

 _"_ _That's not true! I am angry with myself. It was a well nigh criminal offence that I was about to commit! I am mad at my own loss of control!"_

 _"_ _Did you tell him that, Harry? Or did you just slouch away and let him stew while you stewed alone?"_

 _Harry slumped. "Oh."_

 _"_ _You are family. Misunderstandings occur. Just don't let them fester. You are all strong together, and that is the strength that you must preserve, little one."_

 _Harry nodded. "Thank you, Cassiopeia."_

 _"_ _It's my job, Harry."_

 _"_ _Yeah, sure; I am sure all the other Personal Death Managers take time to go beyond the professional boundaries and become maternal figures for their charges."_

 _Cassiopeia seemed to be hiding a smile at that. "Most don't get such perennially troublesome pests for charges either," she retorted fondly, as she patted his cheek. Then she suddenly became very serious. "Harry, I think you should work harder to close this Riddle chapter of your life. I don't want you stretching beyond the coming Summer Solstice."_

 _"_ _Alright," accepted Harry, though it was obvious that he was confused by the sudden change of subject and her seriousness. "What happened?"_

 _"_ _In this race to get one up on Riddle and Dumbledore, you actually have ignored one very dangerous trait of Riddle. He is very clever, resourceful, adaptable and powerful. I_ _ **cannot**_ _divine what back-up plans he may have, but you have to take him out before he puts them into motion. As it is, I think you may have waited a bit too long. I am absolutely serious about this – at the moment, not even Hogwarts is as important as ending him."_

 _"_ _Are you worried about him somehow gaining more power? Because I am pretty sure that the Death Eaters barring Avery and Gibbon won't be a problem."_

 _"_ _That is not my worry, Harry. In the last timeline, you were merely a front, a symbol for the resistance which he wanted destroyed. This time, you are driving the opposition forces, not Dumbledore. Your methods are totally different than Albus'. My worry is that if you can change the game, so too can Tom."_

 _"_ _What do I do?"_

 _"_ _Study that damn Grimoire of yours. And exploit the link. It is an advantage – only if you use it!"_

* * *

On that ominous note, Harry jerked awake at three in the morning. Without any delay, he accessed the link. He didn't expect to find anything 'in the present', but if he could force open some memory of Voldemort, he would be forewarned, and therefore forearmed. As it was, Voldemort had no knowledge of this link. What he was attempting would have to be done judiciously. It could risk the link being detected.

It was hard work. Even though it was a non-magical whom Voldemort had desouled and possessed, detecting a presence over possible several thousand miles and then breaking into the presence's memory was no piece of cake. It was over half an hour later that Harry found a small entrance into Riddle's memories. The irony that this was the very same weapon Voldemort had used to hurt him the last time around wasn't lost to him. He didn't have to work too hard to find the Arkenstone.

It was the number thirteen.

The absolute fucker had intended to make twelve of those abominations – not including _Nagini._ The thirteenth bit would reside in his body. And of course, Harry was not to be considered. Thankfully, he had managed to only get through to eight Horcruxes (still a number too high, by eight!). The ring, the diary, the locket, the diadem, the unknown object in the museum, which turned out to be Helga's Harp (Hogwarts taught music as well during the Founders' time) and the shield he received for 'Special Services to the School' were among them. Gringotts had checked the Cup, of course, and thankfully it was one. But the unknown was Gryffindor's battlestaff. How Voldemort had managed to acquire it was a mystery. But he had. His idea was to have three artefacts each of the Founders. Slytherin's were the easiest to acquire due to Parseltongue.

This was rather excellent. Since he had three of Slytherin, he had gone for the others more enthusiastically. He had two of Hufflepuff (the cup and harp), two of Gryffindor (the shield and the battlestaff) and two of Ravenclaw (the diadem and her wand) as well. Though not by much, it did narrow down the field a bit. He wrote all that he had scried and found out down on a piece of paper, before going back to rooting around in Voldemort's Head. He had to summon all his will to stay in the memory as he saw the last interaction.

 _A non-magical Lord Voldemort was sitting on a large rock by a stream, with his Death Eaters, Avery and Gibbon sitting on a log by his feet._

 _"_ _Any news-s-s-s, Avery?" hissed Voldemort. This was pure show. The mundane that Voldemort had possessed, most certainly had no way to hiss in normal speech, unlike the magical one who had split his tongue._

 _"_ _My Lord, it is not good news." Avery looked absolutely terrified._

Seeing that Gibbon seemed slightly gleeful at that, Harry realised that without magic, Voldemort was using the promise of future rewards and the competition between his two marked human servants to keep them in line. Obviously, Gibbon tortured Avery, and vice-versa.

 _"_ _S-S-Speak!" hissed Voldemort again._

 _"_ _My Lord, my contact in the Ministry tells me that almost all your Death Eaters have been executed."_

 _"_ _And the newspapers-s-s-s are lying, are they?"_

 _"_ _No, my Lord. The Ministry has not ever released a complete list of the executed prisoners, My Lord. At the start, there was an attempt to free them of the Mark, but later, they called it a necromantic construct. So most of the prisoners have been broken open like eggs for their memories, and once that was done, they have been summarily executed. They don't even let Bones know, sometimes. Most have the cause of death as 'magical self-destruction by necromantic mark due to revelation of secrets' on their files. Even Gringotts haven't been notified of the deaths, My Lord. Otherwise, the beasts are prompt to send the letters of ascension to the next in line or those to whom the House is willed."_

 _"_ _The Ministry is willing to indulge in what is tantamount to cruelty against purebloods?"_

 _"_ _The Death Eaters are considered blood-traitors my Lord. They released a list of victims. We killed more purebloods than mudbloods, it seems."_

 _Voldemort's face assumed an expression that was a half-grimace and half-smile. "How many of you remain?"_

 _"_ _The Lestranges, Karkaroff, Dolohov... and us, my Lord."_

 _"_ _When did the execution-s-s s-start, Avery?"_

 _"_ _After Halloween, my Lord."_

 _"_ _S-so your e-s-s-cape los-s-s-t me s-s-several of my loyal s-s-servant-s-s!"_

 _The two wizards cowered._

 _"_ _How did this happen?"_ Evidently, when in anger, a put up habit became difficult to sustain, even for Voldemort.

 _"_ _It was Potter, my Lord. He practically owns the Ministry. He killed Snape in combat as we told you, and he has Life Debts over seven years of Hogwarts students. It was what he used to kill off the Malfoy line," Gibbon answered, speaking for the first time._

 _Impossibly, Voldemort started to smile. "What else has our little friend done?"_

 _"_ _He has courted the werewolves in a different way, and had seen some success. But after Fenrir died last week, my Lord, the packs have taken his offer. Knockturn Alley no longer exists. The Ministry has been mostly cleansed of us. He has, to all intents and purposes, managed a bloody and legal coup."_

 _Voldemort's grotesque smile widened maniacally. "So he did take my advice, after all."_

 _"_ _Y-your advice, my Lord?"_

 _"_ _Oh, never mind. We used to think of him as a weakling. But he is not weak, really, is he?"_

 _"_ _He is no match for your power, my Lord!" Gibbon declared. It was an obvious attempt at flattery. "He certainly must be weak!"_

 _"_ _Don't be stupid, Gibbon," Voldemort chided. "I can't underestimate such a worthy opponent, now can I?" The two Death Eaters looked at him questioningly. "Do you know who is weak, Avery?"_

 _"_ _Mudbloods!"_

 _"_ _And yet Lily Potter was able to disembody me, was she not? It was her, I am sure. No._ _Weak people are of three types: those who fear power, those too weak to seek it, and those too weak to use it. Those that are truly powerful, understand the responsibility, and will seek to use power which isn't their own, as well. Potter has learnt to use power, and to harness it and to gain and accumulate it. It will be fun now."_

 _"_ _Fun, My Lord?"_

 _"_ _Oh yes. It will be fun to fight against an opponent as worthy as Potter." He smiled lazily. "I think a birthday present to myself is in the order."_

 _"_ _The year dies as the anniversary of your first cry on this earth approaches us, My Lord. We hail to you!"_

 _"_ _Set up a ritual circle, Gibbon. Tomorrow, my army shall rise to wait in abeyance till I rise again! In the interim, we owe the ministry a distraction, don't we?"_

Harry extricated himself from the memory with a shudder. This was in the report to Amelia. The Harp had to be removed now. Whatever the fiend had planned couldn't be good at all. The Aurors had best remain on their toes.

* * *

"Dad, Mum, may I visit The Marauders' Place?" asked Hermione on the morning of the 31st.

David was reading the newspaper at the breakfast table, unmindful of the fact that one of the corners had lolled back and was soaking up his orange juice. Jean, meanwhile, was returning to enough consciousness as to pass for being awake as she went through her third cup of coffee. It was obvious that Hermione had timed the request for a time when her parents were hovering on the precipice of wakefulness.

For most people, such a request may have been something of a put-off early on New Year's Eve, but given the fact that even the elder Grangers had been flitting in and out of Marauder's Place if only to know more about the magical world courtesy their sympathetic, newly minted cousin Sirius Black, it did not raise their hackles. As it were, David only grunted in assent while Jean gave her daughter a weary, if knowing look.

Hermione, for all her maturity, was a fourteen year old girl. And as teenagers are wont to do, she wasted no time at all and with a quick hug dispensed to each of her parents, dashed off to her room. She had the permission to visit – it didn't matter that they hadn't consented for her to visit at that time of the morning because she hadn't specified. She treated it as she intended to – as blanket permission. By the fifteenth minute, she had portkeyed off to Harry's home. She came upon a quiet house, unsurprisingly, given the fact that it was only seven fifteen in the morning. With a quick turn of 'her' key, she was inside, blowing hot breath over her fingers. Warming enchantments could stave off the cold only to an extent.

Hermione's destination was the room of her friend – of course, not for spurious purposes. She had let Harry stew for twelve hours. That was more than enough time for him to realise that what he was about to attempt was wrong. That over time, Harry was letting his possible good intentions get infected by the darkness – the sort that was within everyone, but only few allowed to truly fester. Hermione Granger honestly believed in the inherent goodness of people.

She came to Harry's door and squared her shoulders. Sometimes, Harry could be so stubborn – if he wished to be – that it could become a veritable battle to get through to him. She was prepared for both eventualities – Harry realising his fault, and Harry digging his heels in. Given the intended victim, and Harry's recent dubious moral inclinations, she feared the latter.

On pushing the door open, however, Hermione was shocked to see that it did not really match any expectation regarding what she might encounter. The room was entirely too Spartan in its decor. It was painted a stark pure white from the tiles to the walls, right to the ceiling. It had one cupboard standing in a corner from floor to ceiling, and had a small bookshelf hung from the wall. Harry, who had not yet woken, was sleeping with his head turned to the opposite side on a wrought iron bedstead, which was placed near a very functional, undecorated chair and desk. The desk currently held the oft-used pensieve. A clock on the opposite wall completed the furnishings.

What struck Hermione the most was the open space in the medium sized room, especially when one added the balcony space. It was nearly as large as the one she had at home, but where her room had an inherent cosiness, owing to the earthy warm colours and scores of books and the cosy chair for her to lounge on. This room was stark and cold, and very foreboding.

However, the pensieve, which with some memories stored within it, was acting as a night lamp, was what drew Hermione's curious attention. It drew her in and captivated her, as it had done every time Harry had shown them a bit of the future. Why Harry needed a pensieve in his bedroom was a question that intrigued her.

Abandoning her scruples (she ** _was_** already standing **_uninvited_** in the room of her best friend, a **_boy_** – who was also a boy she was crushing on, and was currently not exactly on the best of terms with, though there was a little filling of the cavities already done to help patch their relationship to its earlier strength – at just a quarter past seven in the morning), she made her way to the pensieve, and bent over and dipped her head into the runic bowl.

A sense of disappointment gripped her. It was really nothing new, nothing that she hadn't already seen before, for the most part. There were a few trifling memories that she hadn't, but those memories didn't matter at all. A massive woman being blown up, the first meeting between the **_dog_** father and the godson, the Dementor attack during a match, rescuing Sirius from certain death were the main points of the third year. They were stored with many of the irrelevant memories of the fourth through sixth years of the previous timeline, including, Hermione noticed much to her chagrin, the kiss and date with Cho Chang, and private moments with Ginny Weasley. There were several memories of the altercations with the Malfoys, particularly the son. Almost all the memories of any interaction with Snape accompanied those, along with the detentions with Dolores Umbridge. Then there was the trial by the Kangaroo Court. These were the memories that would no longer have any meaning upon the timeline.

And then she ran into a block. It was like trudging through sludge – very, very viscous sludge. It took her what seemed to be quite some time before she got past that block. Again these weren't new, but these were the darkest of them all. Her torture at the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange, her almost being killed in the Department of Mysteries Battle by Dolohov, Sirius' death, Nagini's attack on them on Christmas Eve, Harry and Hermione fighting over a broomstick of all things in what seemed to be the third year, the entire sixth year, Albus Dumbledore's manipulation of Harry at a time when the man was still held in high regard... the litany was gruesome, but again, **_not new_**. At the end of them, she reached another block. This one seemed to be almost solid to the senses.

She was curious, truly. She glanced at the delicate feminine wristwatch that sat on her right wrist. It was barely a minute after she had entered the pensieve and had started browsing. She was still making up her mind about breaching this block when she was startled by a hand grabbing hers. She turned around and saw a very gaunt face with seemingly wild eyes staring at her. She screamed. The person was certainly shocked for he too reared back with a very odd expression on his face. That caused her to stop screaming. She looked at the person again. It was Harry.

"Harry!" she screamed in a high-pitched whisper.

"Yes?" Harry's voice was normal, if croaky-squeaky as it is for most pubescent boys, when the voice is on the verge of cracking and deepening.

"You scared me," Hermione whispered.

"You can talk properly, you know."

"Huh? Oh, yes." Hermione blushed a bit at her gaffe.

Harry glared at her a bit before he led her out of the pensieve. "Please be entirely silent for the next ten minutes, Hermione," he ordered her. Hermione squeaked out a yes. She had been caught, as it were, and so had no intention of incurring his anger so early in the morning. She quietly sat on the chair as Harry sat on the ground in the cross-legged lotus for about ten minutes. He then jumped up, startling her again, and removed a very, _very_ long strand of memory with what seemed to be a small black drop midway along the strand. He deposited the strand into the pensieve till the 'oil drop' and the rest into a 100ml beaker which wouldn't have looked out of place in a lab.

"Any good reason why you were rooting around in my memories?" he questioned her.

Hermione was red-faced as she really had no answer. It was wrong, really. "I am sorry."

"It's alright. I was a bit surprised, though I believe I am supposed to be angry. That and you gave me a bit of extra work early in the morning."

Seeing that Harry wasn't angry, though he probably should be for the blatant invasion of privacy, she pointed at the beaker and asked, "What do you intend to do with that?"

"Your mum took Sirius to the Doctor yesterday." And Hermione felt trepidation grab her again. "She told him that it was necessary to let go of the past, as much as was possible. These are the useless memories. It's funny. There are so many meaningless things that I remembered, or rather, hadn't forgotten. I suppose you could say I am deleting unwanted items from my hard disk. You wouldn't believe how liberating it is. It already has made me calmer and it is easier for me to think. And I intended to find out whether it makes me more, well, me, instead of an eighteen-year-old."

Hermione nodded in understanding.

"So, you never told me, why did you decide that my memories were wonderland and you were Alice?"

"And the future as the Jabberwocky?" teased Hermione. "No. I just was very curious. I was drawn in and couldn't help looking."

"I see. For future reference, never try to force your way past blocks. I put them to separate types of memories."

"I sort of guessed that," answered Hermione. Then she couldn't restrain herself as she pointed out, "I see that you placed some private memories in the 'delete folder' as well. You wanted to forget your first kiss?"

"As it stands, my first and only kiss – or kisses – till date that I truly remember are from you. I have no intention of having that fact changed – either in the past or in the future."

Hermione could have squealed in joy internally at that, were it not for the fact that Harry was talking like an automaton. "Do you know that your voice is almost expressionless?"

"Is it?" Harry finally showed perfunctory surprise, that to in a very miniscule amount.

"It was, yes."

"It's good that you are here for external observation. It's an experiment, after all. I've never done this before. I almost entirely emptied the other timeline and the useless events of the previous two years as well. I even emptied most of my childhood, barring skills accrued."

"Harry!" Hermione chastised. "You have practically obliviated yourself!"

"I have, yes."

Hermione gave him an unblinking stare. Then she realised something very scary. Harry did not look as he was at that moment. Having seen the memory of the unmasking of Peter Pettigrew in the Shrieking Shack, she had a ready reference to compare Harry's appearance to – the Sirius they had seen in that memory.

"Why are you looking like this?"

"Like what?" Harry asked with genuine uncertainty.

In response, Hermione directed him to a mirror. Harry stared at the reflection critically. "This is not how I always look, is it?"

"NO!" was the vehement response.

Harry kept gazing at the reflection. He then fetched his wand and performed the undetectable glamour charm.

"Now how is it?"

"That is how you normally look." She gave Harry the gimlet eye, before scolding, "WHAT EXACTLY HAVE YOU BEEN DOING TO YOURSELF, HARRY POTTER? HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN USING THAT GLAMOUR CHARM TO HIDE – HIDE ALL THIS?" She made a sweeping gesture encompassing his entire stature.

"It seems I must have been doing so for quite some time. I hope however, that you will excuse me for a few minutes. It would be better if I were dressed. I find myself uncomfortable in the current situation."

Hermione could feel a small, dull throb in her head. How exactly did she manage to befriend and crush on this stupid wizard? There were times when she felt that she should bash his head in. "Go."

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, Hermione was once again in the company of Harry who was just not as much Harry as she had known sixth months ago or three days ago. Almost as if he had meant to do that, Harry picked up a notebook and under the heading, **Sleep Deprivation Prevention Experiment #3** , entered the success of the experiment in that he did not have any nightmares. He then scooped up the memories still left in the pensieve and gathered them like noodles on chopsticks before putting them all back into his, well, head.

The change was instantaneous. "Oh hell!" he promptly swore. "Oh bloody hell!" He took one look at Hermione before he rushed to the mirror. He realised that he had the charm back on, but he remembered not having it on at first when Hermione had come in. Turning to Hermione with a guilty face, he muttered, "You saw what I am without the charm, didn't you?"

Hermione did not even bother to correct his language, nor did she care about beating around the bush. "Of course I did." Harry seemed to shrink into himself. "Care to tell me what all this is about?"

"What is what all about?"

"Don't skirt around the subject! Why did you look like the recently escaped Sirius of the last timeline?"

"And even this timeline," Harry muttered, not helping his case in the slightest.

"Yes, like him as well!" Apparently Hermione had very good hearing.

"You wouldn't believe it if I told you that it was an attempt to emulate Sherlock Holmes from the Dying Detective, would you?"

"No."

"What if I told you that I was dieting and I went overboard?"

"And I am Voldemort's granddaughter. No."

"I didn't drink enough water and ended up shrivelling like a prune?"

"No."

"It was another glamour charm?"

"No."

"I have run out of more excuses without my morning tea."

"Good. I will remember that for future reference. How long have you had trouble sleeping?"

"I haven't exactly had the best sleep since I returned, but Halloween, as usual, decided to wreak havoc. Two Carrion Feasters did escape after all."

"And I take it most of the deaths and m- your friends getting hurt or being hurt by others were recurrent themes in your nightmares?" Hermione's hasty correction was caught, of course. Harry so very wanted to grin.

Hermione on her part lowered her eyes to the notebook in her hands rather quickly and not only to avoid looking at him. It had pages with things written on them, it was bound, and there were things like 'experiment' written in it. And _Harry_ had written in it. Of course she was going to read it.

"You didn't have to correct yourself, you know," Harry replied with a mischievous lilt to his voice. "You are a major subject of my nightmares." Hermione continued to look away determinedly. "And mostly, the only subject of my dreams as well," Harry added _sotto voce_. This time Hermione's head jerked up as she blushed furiously. She'd heard.

It was beginning to be a rather awkward moment. Every once in a while they had this propensity to blurt something out – only to each other and absolutely nobody else – which could be construed as flirting. However, both were equally ridden with cowardice and so flinched at the very idea of actually taking a step forward. It was frankly infuriating for both, because they each felt rather jittery about the matter as well.

Hermione took it upon herself to allay the awkwardness. "Who else knows about this?" she demanded, once more pointing to all of him.

"Sirius," answered Harry promptly.

"Was this idea of removing the memories his?"

"No. I've been trying to find a solution. The Dreamless Sleep Potion is addictive, so even though it worked, it's a straight no. I then tried conscious Occlumency aimed at those memories. I couldn't fall asleep. That was odd, because if I employed Occlumency in general throughout the day, on fairly busy days particularly, I hardly had any nightmares, or at least I didn't remember them. This was the third solution I tried. Works well, I think."

Unsure as to how she should respond to that, Hermione perused the notebook some more. "You tried converting magic to another form of energy?"

"I had to. It is simply the most basic form of transduction."

"Why?"

"Before we even think about running even the simplest machine we see in non-magical houses, we'd have to first convert magic to say, electricity. But how do we know how many Watt-hour of Power is supplied by a unit of magic?"

"Now that you say it, we don't measure magic in SI units, do we? I can see how that can become a problem. So how did you do it?"

"A rotating coil, a magnet, a rectifier circuit and a light bulb," answered Harry. "How long can one spell sustain it? How long can a person sustain it? I got Moony to help me. We got the answer for the second, but not for the first. Since any spell itself doesn't remain in action for more than a few second before impacting the target in any medium, and since we didn't get a way to measure spell-energy dissipation into the medium, we can't get the right answer."

"So you need to construct a magi-electric cell, which can be charged by any spell," concluded Hermione. She was fairly excited by this. "I think – if you would like me to help...

"Of course I want you to!" Harry interrupted slightly indignantly.

"Then we should try for a 5V DC or 12V DC cell. It's what the smaller transistor electronics use, don't they?"

"Yes. But we have no precedent for the cell, not even for a measly 1.5V."

"Oh." That was a damper.

"We can still try though."

"Yes!" Hermione really was excited about that. She missed her Walkman, really, when she lived at Hogwarts.

Deciding to find out more, considering that Harry was being rather open with it, she flipped the pages. A page titled **"Future Actions and Implementations for Ministry/Wizengamot"** caught her attention.

· Interrogation of entire Fudge admin; no-con v/s Fudge; charge F with treason and seek execution, turn him over to the mob.

"Why do you want Fudge dead?"

"Hermione his corruption was only the most trivial of his crimes. He passed Lucius Malfoy's laws, reduced the DMLE budget and in general created a situation that would help Voldemort whenever he would've come back. He is just like the Malfoys. He will be made an example of for others to possibly learn from."

"The mob?"

"Let the people on the streets deal with him. He who controls the mob, controls the crowds and thereby minds."

And that brought them back neatly to the reason why Hermione had come to Marauder's Place so early on New Year's Eve. That one was a mafia tactic, quite literally.

"Harry, what is going on? I know, and you know that I know, that you attempted an Unforgivable on Crouch yesterday. That's not you, Harry."

"I know. I am sorry. Not that I goaded Neville into killing Crouch, but because I tried something entirely so illegal. I promise you that I will never do so ever again."

All of a sudden, the gaunt-faced Harry hiding behind the angry, vengeful person she had come to know over the past term became visible – not literally – to Hermione. It led to an epiphany. "You are scared," she stated. She got a wan smile in response.

"Yes."

"That is why you are systematically taking out people who hurt us the last time. Wormtail, Snape, the Lestranges, Crouch...you aren't working towards just defeating Voldemort...you want revenge!"

"And why is that wrong? They don't deserve to live!"

"Can you give life to those from whom it was unfairly taken?"

"Don't go all 'Gandalf' on me Hermione. That would have had a very flimsy bit of sense if the one in question was a subjugated thing like Kreacher. Those...people...were not Gollum. Every one of them chose to fight. They were all Orcs. They have to be eliminated."

"And what about Draco then?" asked Hermione testily. "He won't come back, but I want a better argument than the one you gave me last time. We only fought."

Harry visibly deflated. "You are partially right. I didn't give you a good enough argument. Let's take apart the idea that Draco could have become 'good' by some fluke or chance. Remember, he was thirteen when he died. For thirteen years, Draco learnt to be a bigot and due to Lucius' positions of power, he saw the benefits of the same. Why would he ever change what he knew to be good for him, whether rightly or wrongly? He was far too entrenched to ever change, or even to ever want to change."

Unspoken, however, was the sentence Snape had so graciously let him know as uttered by his father, " ** _It's more the fact that he existed, if you know what I mean..._** " Harry was not as delusional as to refute the charge of hatred. He hated Draco Malfoy thoroughly. The little swine had the bright idea of insulting his mother and his best friend and then threaten his best friend with death. And that was without considering everything he did in the other timeline. He knew that it wasn't a good trait, but...

"But he was only thirteen! We could have helped him!"

"He should have wanted to improve. You are once again letting two very obvious facts. For one, he remained a bigot till he died. As I told you then, he had had to abuse somebody. I accept that the debt claim was very constricting. But he was a beggar, and beggars can't be choosers. I gave him more chance than the slimy scum ever gave their victims. At best, Draco committed assisted suicide."

"And the second?" asked Hermione.

"Tell me, Hermione, do you know a man named Sirius Black? Sirius is the other important reason why I unilaterally decided to neutralise the Malfoy line, for once and for all. Lucius would have died anyway, but Draco, he would have attempted to have Sirius taken out of the picture because he and his bitch of a mother had designs on the Black wealth and power. I don't particularly care about those, though I won't deny that they are immensely helpful. But Draco isn't the only one to look up to and want to protect his father." This time there was the angry glare that Harry had perfected."Yet I digress. About Sirius, do you know him, he is my godfather and your cousin? He was eight when his mum tortured him because he rejected bigotry."

"She what?" shrieked Hermione.

"That is not the point. The point is that an **_eight-year-old_** could take an informed decision. For all that it matters, Sirius' rebelliousness is not the cause; it is the effect of what his mother did. Draco Malfoy, at age thirteen, made the decision of clinging to bigotry in spite of all available information pointing towards the fallacy of it all. He reaped his rewards."

"Yet you are easy on Regulus..." Hermione countered.

"So I am. That is because he is dead. Regulus knew what he had become, and chose to do the honourable thing and terminate the Horcrux within him the way he did."

"Is he just another Death Eater scum to you?"

"Was he not? He did take the decision to take the mark, didn't he? Regulus was a weak minded fool. Sirius gave him chance after chance, offered him help to get away from the clutches of both Bella and Walburga. He dithered till he was seventeen. He chose the wrong side. His remorse may have driven him to his actions against Voldemort, but he still was a rapist and murderer, and a Horcrux himself. On this matter, Sirius and I would have stood against each other. Unlike him, I am not given to bursts of familial compassion. Let me make it absolutely clear. Had he not made the criminal mistakes with his son and with Sirius, Bartemius Crouch Sr. would have been one of my heroes."

"You are cynical. You honestly believe that they must be killed. What was he, a sacrifice for the Greater Good?"

"Take it whichever way you want it, Hermione. Utopian beliefs don't win wars, cynicism can. And of course, Draco wasn't even dithering, was he? He was a terrorist in a training camp, and **_he had a chance to change and repent and he wasted it_**. Last year he was sure enough to spout off threats against **_you_**. Or have you forgotten that? Draco had one way to living a good life – accepting the restrictions levied on him and changing his ways. He chose not to. Once I pulled the debt tripe on him, did I go and attempt to get him to breach the debt? In that case I would have been guilty of murder. I could have ordered him to be my indentured slave, or to kill himself and sign over the Malfoy fortune and magic to me. I could have ordered him to personally go on a Death Eater killing spree. I didn't. Instead I gave a chance, a terrifically restrictive way out, but I still gave him one. So I am not a murderer, yet."

She had to say to him what she had said to Sirius to refute what he thought she thought of him. "Harry I could never think of you as a murderer, for that would mean I would start hating you. I don't. I only worry about you. I worry that eventually your lust for revenge will take you too far." She received a rather pained smile in response.

"Are you listening to yourself? If that was all I wanted, I doubt Nott, Parkinson and all the other children of the Death Eaters would have remained alive. Malfoy, if I hadn't clipped his wings, would have attempted to retaliate, would have sought revenge. I just destroyed any chance for him to do so. Though, I won't say that I won't try to subjugate them in the future. And I did say that I am not a murderer yet. If coming back in time has skewed me in some way, it has taught me that death is normal, natural. People die. It is what they do. My job is to ensure that those I love do it much later than my enemies would prefer, preferably several decades after my enemies snuff it. I don't like how I have become, but... let's just say I wouldn't trade Sirius for even a remorseful Regulus, or you for a compliant Parkinson."

Hermione saw that he was not angry. He was being blandly objective. She almost expected him to make a statement like, "My logic is irrefutable." He didn't of course, but she could see what he was trying to say. Malfoy, of all the children of the Death Eaters, was likely to take up the cornered, wounded animal role. So to Harry's mind, he had simply fenced him in with electric wire.

"I did not handle the fallout well, that is true. So there is something I must apologise for; two things, in fact. Firstly, I was completely wrong to get angry with you when you questioned me. It was your way of ensuring that I didn't go overboard, and of keeping me in check. I was wrong to call you Petunia Dursley when you were only looking out for me. I hurt you. I am sorry." And he really was sorry. He however, wasn't going to tell her that hurting her hurt himself just as much, nearly physically.

"Secondly, I behaved in a very reprehensible way the night I returned. I Dumbledore'd you. The Life Debt claim that sought to send you away was stupid, even though it was inspired by your, or rather, that Hermione's actions." Hermione gave him a questioning glance, but seeing that he was still speaking, she let it pass for the moment. "It was incomplete. I can give an excuse and say that I wasn't exactly thinking straight, but I won't. I treated you in a condescending, patronising manner, like a child. I apologise. Since I do not want that clause to ever be invoked, taking you away from me," he muttered this last part, "I am going to eliminate Voldemort within the next year. I promise you that."

And there they were again, not acknowledging the fact that they meant more to each other, just yet. Hermione had of course caught the mutter. It's easy to do so on cold, quiet winter mornings when there is practically no other sound.

Deciding that Draco had driven them apart enough after his death, and given that neither of them was exactly willing to let go of his or her stand, Hermione decided to let the subject be. Even the best of friends didn't always agree on everything and managed to have outstanding issues. Her own parents could sometimes have things that they argued – argued, not fought – over for years whenever the subject was brought up. Perhaps this would be resolved in the future, perhaps it wouldn't. Seeing what she had seen, she decided that remaining angry with Harry was not going to help anyone in the slightest. Apart from any repercussions that the incident would have on Harry, she really didn't miss Draco Malfoy. She didn't intend to end the year on a bitter note from her side.

She simply crossed over to her best friend and hugged him tightly. In that moment, everything was alright in Harry's world. He gripped her back just as tightly.

"I really hate Draco Malfoy," he mumbled.

"Why?"

"My best friend liked him and grieved for him so much that she starved me of her hugs for nearly three months."

"Harry!" squealed Hermione in indignation as she fought to get out of the embrace – not so hard, mind. "How dare you?" she mock scolded.

"How dare you, Hermione. How dare you make me feel jealous of Draco Malfoy, that too posthumously for that git? I almost feared that you hated me over your loss," the Marauder's son teased back.

"You prat!" was Hermione's response as she giggled a bit, in spite of their disagreement.

All of a sudden, the laughter died from Harry's face. "I know that you still don't agree. I don't expect you to. I will only request you to never bring up that subject again, ever. I will have you know though, that were I in the same position, I would have done the same thing again. Or perhaps I would have constricted him even further."

It was a statement with no further explanation given.

"Would you have killed him?"

"I wouldn't have had to. Any situation where he managed to make himself a nuisance would have killed him."

"And where does this all end?"

"It will end soon."

"I didn't ask you when. How many more will you send on to the afterlife?"

"Dolohov, for sure," Harry answered honestly. "I think that the baby that Voldemort killed and possessed last time can be saved if we push all available soul pieces into a soulless Dolohov. If that happens, he'll be the last. I can happily clobber him to death as he is for what he did to you. I'd of course like to carve up Bella for the way she tortured you, but she's a woman. I draw a line there."

"And he will be the last?"

"Unless we miss out on any more bits and pieces of Voldemort, yes."

"You promise?"

"I promise that after Voldemort, unless there is a threat to you and everyone else that I care for, I shall not kill. Any threat will be exterminated with extreme prejudice."

Deciding that it was the best that she would get out of him, Hermione nodded, squeezed the stuffing out of him once again and returned to her perusal of the notebook. It held infinitely better things that had passed his mind as compared to the morbidity related to Voldemort and his minions.

· Newblood Integration Act

1\. Heredity tests.

2\. Allow Gringotts to proactively reactivate dormant accounts.

3\. Equalisation of Taxes.

4\. All newbloods to be informed of magical status as soon as first incident of uncontrolled magic is recorded. Heredity tests to be carried out at that point. Act shall work in conjunction with Squib Exemption from the Statute of Secrecy.

5\. Initiate establishment of a new house for a true newblood, if they exist. First get people to accept 'squib'-descended newbloods, ASAP, and then advertise a true newblood as a means of growth of magic. The idiots might end up revering them.

· Squib Exemption from SS. Refer H's grandmother.

· Relax Reasonable Restriction of Underage Magic to allow casting spells learnt in syllabus till recently concluded school year in presence of non-magicals in the know.

The first three conditions of the act were rather obvious and the fourth followed from them. The last was an obvious, blatant attempt at social salesmanship. How effective it would be was uncertain, but it was a different attempt than the previous ones in which even the champions of muggleborn rights seemed to pity them. The idea of a true newblood being a propagation of magic and therefore the will of magic itself being introduced after showing that many newblood were in fact squib-born could end up being a masterstroke. And as for casting magic at home? Hermione really would kiss him senseless if he managed that. She had for so long really longed to show her parents the magic she learnt and had had to either do so at Marauders' Place or allay them with promises of doing so when she turned seventeen. This piece of legislation would make her dream come true.

"Is this 'H' me?" Hermione asked.

"Yes, of course that is you."

"What is the motivation?"

"Your grandmother is a squib, yes? And you were showing signs of accidental magic since you were what? Seven? Eight?"

"Six," she corrected.

"So why didn't she tell you?"

And the question floored her. Why didn't Granny tell her? All that time when her parents were parading her to various doctors, and she was worried as well, Granny had known. So why hadn't she said a word? "Why?"

"The British Magical law classes a 'squib' as a 'muggle'. Merlin, I hate those words. In the simplest of terms, your grandmother would have broken the law if she had done so. You would all have been memory charmed."

"But this is so unjust!"

"Of course it is," agreed Harry as he opened the door and started for the kitchen. He intended to cook some breakfast. "Breakfast, Hermione?" he asked.

"I had some, but if you are cooking, I want to taste some, at least." They shared a grin at that as she followed him and plopped onto a chair by the dining table. "Do you have the complete statements of the laws that you want replaced?"

"No. Percy and Sirius do. Percy's interning with Tonks-Greengrass-Doge and they are also participating in the lawmaking process, so he has to read up on it. Sirius has to quote those things when he addresses the chamber, so he has the scrolls too. Are you interested?"

"Of course I am. Hi Dobby!" she called to the elf that had just ambled into the kitchen, slightly bleary-eyed.

"Good Morning, Her-my-knee!" greeted Dobby after a small yawn. "Are you cooking bacon, Harry?"

"Yes."

"I will just put up the strawberry pancakes then."

"No, let it be. I am cooking for her; she wants to sample my culinary skills."

"Culinary?" asked Dobby.

"C-U-L-I-N-A-R-Y, culinary; it means 'related to cooking. If you'd though, set the kettle boiling, would you?"

Dobby fished out his omnipresent notebook and noted the word down, and then fetched the kettle, as he muttered, "Huh...cooking to impress the ladies, Harry?"

Harry responded with one word, "Cookie, Winky, Spicky..." and a wide, exaggerated grin to shut Dobby up with a snap of the elf's mouth and an indignant waggle of his ears.

At this Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"Our Dobby is quite the play-elf," was the blithe response.

Hermione was looking at the exchange with an open mouth, while at the same time trying to ignoring Dobby's comment. She knew a few House-Elves due to her acceptance into the Greengrass and Dearborn families, as well as the Blacks. None of them was like Dobby. His language, his behaviour was more human than anything else. That was what a free elf was like. That was also the healthiest and most fiercely loyal elf she could have ever found. She could only shake her head in slight awe and confusion and flip the page.

· Magical Examination Reforms: No names on answer parchments, sealing of magical signature/impressions. Impartiality in theory testing to be introduced. Suggestions 4 reforms for practical testing reqd.

· Magical Employment Competency Act: All Ministry positions to be filled on basis of tests, NEWT scores being basic requirements. Screening of existing Ministry personnel, inc. performance reviews, and aptitude for work to be conducted annually.

"Merlin!" exclaimed the girl reflexively. "How on earth do they conduct OWLs and NEWTs? Surely they must have seat numbers and magi-scans?"

"No. The idiots rely on "I know this examiner and I had him over for dinner.""

"And the employment in the Ministry, of course it will be based on the blood status?"

"Right in one," the chef mock cheered.

"There's no wonder that they can't do anything right! Reservations to override academic prowess?" the future Lady Dagworth-Granger huffed. "How do they even manage to function?"

"Idiocy is self-sustaining."

The three shared a quiet laugh at that.

· Find secrets of all Wizengamot members. DE Org. pushed their pressure pts. Even without purge, DE faction 'Light' side mmbrs. Why were DEs not punished or D overruled? All other modernisation attempts will pass if we have st to hold over their heads. Reqd. evil.

This caused Hermione to frown. The course of action was so severely below the belt that she simply couldn't condone it at first glance. And then the question that was asked made her wonder. How and why were the Death Eaters allowed to escape? Could the blame be pinned completely onto a Snape-controlled Dumbledore or on a bribed Ministry? Of course it couldn't. The faction opposing the Death Eaters was nearly a hundred and twenty strong, including multiple Houses under the same stewardship. That came to a good fifty eight percent of the House. Dumbledore was only one man. This would be a treasure trove, this information.

"I can understand why you want to know the skeleton in every cupboard Harry. What do you intend to do with it?"

"Oh, you reached the unsavoury parts of the plan."

That meant that Harry had scruples as well. That relieved Hermione quite a bit. "You don't seem keen..."

"I am not, truly speaking," Harry agreed as he flipped the rashers of bacon. "I am not particularly gleeful about the prospect of becoming **Charles Augustus Milverton**. But if things come to it, then in anonymity, I might be forced to release information, or set one House against another and become a feud-monger. That means I must have information on my own Houses, Sirius, Amelia, Remus and my Allies as well. In the future, that will extend to include the Lady Potter. The idea of such blatant invasion of privacy though..." Harry heaved a deep sigh.

"Malfoy had a lot of that sort of information on the other Death Eaters," Dobby interjected as he set the tea-set. "It was typical for the Death Eaters to consider each other friendly enemies."

"Hmm... note that down, would you, Hermione? This is most interesting. We can check the Malfoy vaults and homes later." Hermione noted Dobby's information. "Thank you Dobby."

In a very un-elfish gesture, Dobby shrugged. It was quite evident though, that he was much chuffed at the prospect of being useful beyond the ken of a house-elf, and the fact that it went unremarked. It had taken time for him to come to terms with the situation, but he knew he was the happiest elf in Britain.

· Hogwarts intake incr. Allow only tuition for children from families of modest means. Allow meals at H. Boarding not compulsory. Provide Portkeys. Also allowed upon request.

· Find non-magical ed. counsellor to help detect LD cases, and to train teachers in detecting abuse.

It was quite interesting how simple solutions were ignored by magicals, either wilfully or because they were unable to expend energy in thinking and searching for alternate solutions. "If this was in place, the Weasleys could have saved at least half their fees!" Hermione realised. There really was no need to live at Hogwarts. Several Universities had what were called Day Scholars, students living off campus.

· Invite parents of newbloods to Hogwarts. H's Ps, KB's Ps and others may like some Quidditch action.

The first point itself had Hermione squealing with joy, quite audibly. She never got around to reading the ones after. Just as Harry finished flipping some omelettes onto a plate and the other residents of the house ambled in, drawn by the smell of bacon and eggs, Hermione dive-tackled him with a chant of "Thank you, thank you, thank you!", pinning him haphazardly against a wall.

For a moment everybody was looking at them in dazed early morning confusion, before they started sniggering. The sniggers then gave ways to hearty guffaws, which had the two teens blushing.

"Wow, Hermione," teased Susan. "Were you trying to embed him into the wall?"

"He can invite my parents to Hogwarts!" Hermione was concentrating on the important things, and she hadn't yet read the next points.

Sirius frowned at his godson. "Isn't that a bit premature? Considering the situation..."

"Our fool of an ancestor stopped inviting non-magical parents, Sirius. Phineas Nigellus," Harry spat, "the posturing peacock that he was, thought it was a step in the right direction."

"When is the earliest you can invite the parents?" Anything that went against most of the Black ancestors was the easiest way to convince Sirius.

"The matches start on the first weekend back and continue into March. Since Matches are always conducted on Saturdays, we can invite all non-magical parents of the students of the Houses involved."

"That'd be manageable," Minerva agreed. "A better solution would be for Hogwarts to host a House Day at the end of term or during Easter. One day for each House."

"So everyone can come," pondered Amelia aloud. "Logistically, it could prove to be a problem, because I may or may not be able to provide Aurors. At the moment, sending invitations to mundane parents for Quidditch game days as a pilot initiative seems a good bet."

"But it is still not a good enough reason for you to **_crush_** him, Hermione," Susan mock scolded. The stress on the word crush set the others, including Minerva off again.

"You really want to go there, Susan?" came Harry's muffled voice as he called from somewhere between the wall and Hermione. "Shall I tell them about...?"

"Shut up!" snapped the redhead as her aunt looked at her with a questioning gaze.

With steaming cups of Earl Grey, brewed to each one's personal tastes, the family got down to breakfast. It was a sumptuous one – bacon and eggs, strawberry pancakes and syrup, some orange juice (which Hermione declined), hash browns, marmalade and toast.

"This is really good!" complimented Hermione. "This is really, really good!" She turned to Sirius with a very innocent look and asked playfully, "Can I keep him?"

"During the school term yes, otherwise, he is ours," sniffed Amelia disdainfully. "We like our breakfasts just as he makes them, and we haven't got enough during the Christmas holidays."

"Nice to know that I'll be missed," Harry quipped.

"Of course you'll be! How are we going to wake up to the aroma of breakfast everyday once you go back?" Sirius demanded.

"I will ask Nibby to let you make my breakfast at Hogwarts Harry," Minerva promised, with a superior grin at the others. The old woman really had taken very well to the informal position of the grandmother in the family, so she had lightened up quite a bit.

As breakfast ended and they went about getting ready for whatever they had up for the day, Harry had a sudden bright idea, "Would you like to visit Potter Manor, The Lion's Den and the Herpetarium?"

"What exactly do you have in mind?"

"I want to show my best friend all my homes."

"Where you will eventually live with your wives," Hermione retorted with a frown.

"Okay let me make it absolutely clear. Firstly, I am _**bloody thirteen going on fourteen!**_ I have yet to muster the courage to even think of asking a girl out, let alone marriage and all that sort of stuff. That won't be for another twelve or so years yet, at least, okay? I have got plans, and ambitions which come first. We are magicals because we can use magic, not because we think like them! I am almost tempted to insult you and say that that statement was as Ginny Weasley-ish as it can get, but I won't say that."

Well, he had said that. It didn't do much to veer Hermione off the course in the slightest, but it did bring her head back into the game and away from such a fairly trivial matter at the point of time. So she just flushed in embarrassment and ducked her head slightly before nodding.

"Secondly, I have absolutely no intention of marrying multiple women. Do you know when exactly the rule was brought into effect?"

"I don't know. Maybe Merlin instituted it or something?"

"Don't be ridiculous. It was brought up in 1703, eleven years after the International Statute of Secrecy was accepted. Family lines die all the time. Purebloods can't have that. Plus, Britain is patriarchal. Ergo, there has to be a son to inherit, apparently. At the time before that, people would marry non-magicals who knew about magic. Non-magicals are more fertile biologically than pureblood magicals in general, but that is because of the inbreeding. It is why the Weasleys, with seven kids are looked down upon. They are likened to non-magicals. The polygamist allowance was brought in simply to increase the probability of begetting a male heir. As it is, I am very sure that that is where they started perverting the findings of Salazar Slytherin. In the olden times, people married powerful people, while as they went down that pecking order, they could only marry squibs or the mundane. Times changed and people sought to marry as they wished. The ebbs and flows in that ideology have been there for a long time, but the pureblood supremacist perversion is a recent development, given magical life spans."

"The more I learn about this world, the more I detest it," grumbled Hermione. "Women are nothing but broodmares to them. What if you marry only one witch and end up having four sons?"

"Then I can distribute the Headships between each of them. However, I am not a woman. I will never know the pains a woman will undergo over nine months. When I marry, my wife will decide the number of children we shall have, not me. That said though, the minimum would be two. I am sure that I will end up with enough god-sprogs to pass my other lines to."

"And if you do have four children?"

"Then each will get a line, and will have to abide by the fourteen generation rule. None of their descendents till at least the fourteenth generation shall marry into the other lines. Before you ask, fourteen is an arbitrary number that I just came up with and has no scientific basis whatsoever."

"So you will abolish the multiple line law?"

"In the generation of our children," Harry started and then stopped stock still. The two looked at each other uncertainly, and the staring match was accompanied by a...pregnant pause. "I mean, your children or mine. Now suppose you have a daughter, or I have a daughter, to whom I pass a line on to. I can't conceive a single way in which I will allow my daughter to be locked in a polygamous relationship. It degrades women. I won't stand for it. And right now, while I am the one to be appeased, while I am the most politically powerful person around, I will abolish that law."

A grin that she successfully stifled was hurting Hermione's cheek muscles a lot. She had, every so often at the start of the previous term, wanted Harry to ask her out, or to ask her to be his girlfriend. However, her distant cousin wasn't being particularly subtle in her advances, and Hermione was entirely sure she couldn't compete with Daphne Greengrass. Out of all the girls who batted their eyelashes at him coquettishly, she was the one who was most open about it. Hermione had ended up behaving oddly therefore, showing flashes of jealousy and possessiveness amidst their recurrent fights. And Daphne seemed to be even more enamoured with his exploits, while she was fighting with him. The Houses and talk of political and familial alliances with Harry at the centre did nothing to soothe her nerves. The only good thing from her point of view was that she was sure that Harry, when he paid attention to girls at all, was entirely too attentive to her and nobody else. Otherwise, he was pretty busy either finishing off enemies, upturning the course of Wizengamot sessions through Sirius, or upholding his legacy as the one Heir of the Marauders, a position which he coveted the most.

The worst part of it all was that even if she did end up as Harry's girlfriend, under the current situation, she would still have to compete with three other girls, as things stood. Sure, she had Harry's assurances that he found the idea morally repulsive, along with his direct expression of disdain for that law in the informal 'get to know the Young Turk' ceremony in the Wizengamot, but it was nice to have it confirmed every now and then. The latest instance therefore helped ease her unease a bit.

Now she only had to get him to pay attention to her as more than a best friend, to attract his attention to her, _and_ keep him attracted. That was something she planned to do, not realising that she was the only one Harry was truly attracted to. If she had thought about it, she would have realised that in spite of their arguments over not-at-all petty matters, Hermione Granger was the only one he trusted. Hermione Granger's very firm stand by what she believed in attracted him more than anything else she would ever do. He had known her to be beautiful inside out across time. But even the ' ** _cleverest witch of her generation_** ' was prone to the fallacy and irrationality of the teenage years. Whoever said being a teenager was easy, especially when your chief competitor is your own counterpart across time?

"You are going to speak, aren't you?" Harry asked as he experimentally attempted to tickle her in a bid to shake her from her daydreaming daze. She didn't respond, so he did tickle her. Hermione made a sound that was half-shriek and half-laugh. She was very ticklish.

"Don't do that!" she scolded, though the effect was rather marred by un-Hermione-ish giggles.

"Is Hermione ticklish?" Harry asked with faux innocence, as he advanced, wriggling his fingers. Hermione backed away, her attention fixed on the fingers.

"Y-yes I-I am..." she stuttered. She ended up backed against a wall and stared at him with wide eyes.

Harry came to his senses rather quickly, stopped, and dropped his hands to his sides. This was becoming awkward. They were best friends and now that they started looking at each other for something beyond friendship, everything that was hitherto innocent seemed to have some different connotations. In the plane of existence which was removed from those of the living, a Reaper was tearing her hair out. Damn these humans and their proclivity towards losing their courage when it truly mattered!

With a nervous stab at behaving as if nothing had happened, he asked, "So, as I asked before you had, what I could call, an attack of Ginnyism and then decided to get lost in dreamland, will you come and see my other houses?"

Hermione was undecided about it. All of a sudden, it was a daunting prospect. A picnic for two while they were dancing around each other, and cognisant of the fact, didn't seem so inviting.

"We could call Neville, Susan, and Luna along. Maybe we could call in Ron and the twins," Harry suggested. "I have to key you all in, anyway, and Neville has to know where the properties are in case he has to ascend to Lordship over the Houses of Potter and Gryffindor." It was a flimsy excuse. He only had to key the invited Weasleys in for the day.

While the suggestion was sound, the last part was indigestible for her. She nodded.

Susan was quite ready to visit the places in question. The Weasleys (the youngest four; Harry hadn't invited Ginny, and this caused him quite some internal strife. He didn't like her being stuck with them. He didn't really like her much. He would have preferred for Percy to be there instead) and Luna were so too. Neville took his time to say yes, but another message to tell him that as Heir he was expected to be there brought a grudging acceptance. He was still coping with killing Crouch junior. Moony agreed to play chaperone. The party was to leave at half past eleven by portkey.

"You know, your treatment of the Weasleys intrigues me," Hermione commented offhandedly.

"Oh? Why?"

"On one hand you rein in Ron with a visual display of power, yet you keep him as a friend. You clip their wings by ensuring they remember their place as your vassals. On the other hand you give them 'victim's compensation', help them with a restaurant – one of the twins told me – and invite them to your homes. Yet you haven't, even now, told them where exactly you live. You are keeping them neatly balanced between trusted acquaintances and people who you'd only sparingly trust. I don't understand!"

"That's because I do want to send mixed signals. Ginny was a victim, and so compensation was always going to be on the cards. Ron – Ron was a friend who attached himself to me. He is a pest sometimes, but he still has his moments when he reaches above and beyond himself. He had no reason to, yet he faced his greatest fear in the Acromantula colony. That Harry considered Ron to be a friend. I have found no reason to ditch him yet."

"Why? He was complicit in the act of giving us potions, of nearly raping us!"

"So he was. And yet, is this Ron the same? When I look back at my memories of that Ron, I realised one thing. Ron is a sheltered, unconfident person with several issues, chiefly pertaining to his anger and self-image. He feels overshadowed by others and unwanted. Mind you, I am not euphemising or apologising for his mistakes, or crimes, but I can't help but think that his real troublesome behaviour started when he discovered his hormones."

Hermione realised what he was pointing at. Ron and she had argued often, but in the other timeline, Ron had become progressively worse as he became a teenager. It wasn't a good excuse, but it could well have been a plausible cause. "And Ginny?" she prompted.

"I can't say. All I knew of her for five whole years was as an acquaintance that was closely related to my best mate. She was on the periphery and squeaked around that Harry, or, well, me. She didn't have the benefit of mind healing last time, and after such a prolonged period of possession, that was the minimum necessary action. Her unstable mental state built an obsession for her, based on me. The Weasleys have been coaxed to change that. So I can't truly detest her. What I am trying to say is that I am going to judge them on their actions of this timeline."

"But you are going above and beyond that. The restaurant," she pointed out.

"When my Reaper pointed out to me what they had done, she didn't openly come out and say that Mrs. Weasley was an accomplice. But it is a sound deduction. Ron brewing complex potions is a bit out of the realm of his ability, isn't it?"

"Yes." It was an indisputable fact. "So she brewed them?"

"I don't **_know._** It lies within the realm of possibility."

"Yet, this restaurant business is mostly resting on her..."

"I will say this. I may have a thousand issues with her, but the food she cooks isn't one of them. It is an innate talent that she does have."

Hermione had never eaten anything cooked by Mrs. Weasley, but given the fact that Harry cooked really well, she was inclined to take his word on that.

"The second reason is the adage – an empty mind is the devil's workshop."

Hermione's eyes widened comically as she realised what he was trying to say. "With her busy with the restaurant, she won't have time to think about snatching the free will of others."

"Precisely," Harry replied with a smile. "The third reason is that it is useful to me. Knockturn Alley will soon be repopulated with several new businesses. The names of the land buyers will make or break the deal. I am using my fame and influence, yes, but I am doing so positively. It will be land owned by the Peverells and the money shall also be invested under that name. The idiots, Gaunts, have made a shamble of the House and let it rot. This is a way to resuscitate it, in the most legal manner possible."

"Economic control," Hermione breathed as she came to a sudden realisation. "You are working towards becoming the biggest power economically as well! You are really working towards achieving the sort of power that neither Voldemort nor Dumbledore could achieve on their own!

"By giving people like the Weasleys such opportunities, you are generating goodwill for yourself. At the same time, due to all that you have done for them, along with them being your vassals, they become beholden to you. They have seven children – so that will be seven future families that will look at you as a cross between an inspiration, family friend, and well-wisher. It portrays you as a seemingly reluctant overlord who cared truly about his vassals and is a friend first. So they will remain loyal to you. And this doesn't take into account their extended family or word-of-mouth!

"They were the poorest of the lot among the Ancient families in the magical world, are pureblood so the conservative people will approve, but are apparently 'light' so they will, in theory, employ any competent person irrespective of the blood status, will generate employment if they end up distributing franchises, and it will generate quite an amount for House Peverell! The Weasleys are being helped by design, because helping them consolidates you as a benefactor among the light families and makes you an astute businessman among the neutrals! And it doesn't hurt that this way, what you do is not considered help, but a way to help them come out of their relative poverty with dignity!"

"Bravo! Bravo! You did follow the line of thought after all!" Harry was very pleased that Hermione had caught up. She had to realise why he did what he did. If things went the way he hoped they would, she would be managing things one day as Lady Potter-Peverell-Gryffindor-Slytherin, after all. "Plus, it sinks them under a moral debt to me, one that I'll never have to call, curbing any prurient and deviant ideas anyone might have. Why waste such a perfectly good, readymade resource?"

"I admit it. I would have never, ever thought of such a mutually beneficial manner of business. Where did you learn the ropes of this?" Hermione was not flattering him. She genuinely wanted to know where he had hidden away this sort of acumen for the past two years, not to mention that instances like this gave ample proof of his brains, making her all the more attracted to him.

"Grandpa Charlus had a plan to build restaurants for the magical world. I took that idea and just twisted it to fit my purposes."

"But why then have you not given them the secret to this place? Even today we are picking people along!"

"Mrs. Weasley disapproves of Sirius. She thinks that he is not a good enough guardian, and that his company will spoil me. Indeed, what a good boy am I! It is a not-too-subtle reminder that he is my adoptive father, and any slights against him will not earn my friendship. She has to accept my family at face value. If she can't, it's her loss. It is not her place to either approve or disapprove of my parents' or my choices. Sirius is my godfather and my adoptive father and that is how it will be. We may not have the most conventional father-son relationship, but he is my father and I am his son. I will not stand for her, or anyone for that matter, mouthing off at him. I hated it when she did so last time. That time, I never spoke against anyone, because I kept fearing that sooner or later someone would tell me that I was unwanted. I can't do that now. He was the only adult who seemed genuinely - he ate rats as he watched out for me the best he could while a fugitive while living in a cave, damn it! I can't and won't allow her, or anyone for that matter to usurp his place."

Hermione nodded. She suspected that quite a bit. Even though the two seemed to be behaving like James and Sirius sometimes, the truth of the matter was that it was only Sirius that Harry would turn to first. She knew that even she had been relegated to the second position on that account. A close second, but still **_second_**. The malleability of their relationship - as father and son, as cousins by blood, as godfather and godson, and when they needed it, even as James and Sirius - made them closer.

"Secondly, last time around, she bossed people around Grimmauld Place as if she owned it. Not considering the fact that the decrepit hovel has only one redeeming feature that it is close to Highbury, it was still Sirius' place, and they were all his **_guests_**. I don't want her aking over Marauders' Place. We shall come to blows. No. As far as they know, I am living with Sirius. Bill knows, and he understands." He paused and looked at her calmly before adding, "All the same, whether or not the meeting was arranged, and in spite of my misgivings, I am not going to treat Mr. and Mrs. Weasley in a different way. They were the first adults who were in some way good to me, ever, and while I'll always be vigilant, since they can't now go against me, I will take their actions at face value as much as I can. We are not currently at loggerheads, and we will need all the friends we can keep."

Hermione nodded. It seemed fair. "Is their some similar ulterior motive for Theo Nott?"

"Draco was an example of what happens if you cross me for no real reason. Theo will be an example of my tolerant tendencies and of my will to work with anyone who is sensible and whose beliefs may be different but are reasonable."

It seemed Harry had a use for everyone. _Well, almost everyone_ , she mentally corrected. He had been open with Amelia about what he expected of her, and as his – well, there was no real word for their relationship but – step-godmother to be, both were quite clear about what they were working towards. But they had a relationship beyond her professional duties, for it was clear that she was a part of the greater Potter-Black-Bones family. From Neville and Luna he only wanted the kinship as from siblings, and he loved them as such. He obviously loved Sirius and Remus as the closest things to a father. What was she to him, then? What use was she to him? Before she could control himself, she asked him that question aloud.

The reaction was, at first, a twisted frown. Finally, he spoke, "Do you want the true answer, or do you want something that beats around the bush?"

"No I want you to tell me how you befriending me taught you to make better pancake batter," Hermione snapped with a roll of her eyes. "Of course I want the true answer."

"Removing the memories of the other Harry from time to time help me be objective about things. I can say for this sure, that Harry loved his Hermione. I can surely see why and can agree with his choices."

Hermione sincerely wished that Harry would stop talking and think for a moment. Did he realise what he was saying? She could only listen though as he continued speaking.

"She was the person who made him, who was whatever little good he had in life. For six-and-a-bit years, she practically raised him, became his closest friend, and his personal guardian angel. She taught him to love and to accept it in return. They were thoroughly in love, even across a chemically induced haze. They were lovers in every way short of even the slightest amount physical intimacy. She was his rock, the only person he ever truly depended on."

Harry stopped speaking and looked at her expressionlessly. She had frozen in place and was staring at him open-mouthed.

"What?"

"Did you understand what you just said?"

"Yes."

"You love me?"

 _Yes, bloody hell, yes I do. I won't say it just yet, though._ "Hermione learn to listen. **_That Harry_** loved **_his Hermione._** That doesn't mean that I don't like you, or won't ever think of you as more than my best friend, or that I haven't thought along those lines before, or that I don't now. You are attractive, you are beautiful, and I am not talking about just your face. You are a strong-willed, enchantingly clever, principled woman, who will do anything for those you love. You are a beautiful soul. It would be incredibly easy to love you as he did her. But at the moment, we are talking about that Harry and that Hermione. It will take a long time for me to say that to or feel that way about anyone."

"Why?"

"He had seven years to get over the Dursley treatment. I have had only two-and-half. I wasn't even prepared to have a friend, let alone a person like you who would touch me for any other reason than to hurt me. Even now, you are the only one apart from Sirius that I am not scared of being in physical proximity with. That Harry had seven years of your hugs, and that you hadn't withheld them from him over petty people like Malfoy for over five years, till the sixth."

Hermione had known in passing, but having him say it the way he did made her blood boil. She sought to direct the conversation away from where it was going. "Do you think you will, ever?" she asked with put on curiosity.

"He did. I can at the moment say that I agree with what _**he**_ felt for _**her.**_ "

Instead of jumping and shouting "Yes!" in celebration as she so very much wanted to, Hermione countered, "Aren't we the same people? Are you trying to dissociate from your memories? Was there something wrong with what I did to help you in the future?"

"Are we, really? He had a sense of wonder and had the ability to look at people and think the best of them, just as she did, and just as you do. Yet he failed and she had to keep salvaging things as they wriggled out of situations based on her brains and his obstinate use of raw power. As I am now, I am shaped by his failure, and what she made him, and what you have made me over the past two years. He was probably a good man, Hermione, but he isn't me. He was young and stupid. I am the former, but I don't have the luxury of being the latter. It gets people killed. He wouldn't speak and make himself heard, and in spite of being the most effective agent on our side - I will say that without modesty - he was always treated as a child. We are at war, and failure is unacceptable. Willingly or not, I am the epicentre of Voldemort's attention. The tremors, then, should destroy him thoroughly."

It was true. The Harry of the past timeline didn't learn to use the resources at hand, including his own name and influence, resulting in eventual failure. Voldemort was always playing a dangerous game, and with Dumbledore being indirectly his stooge, the odds were stacked against him. He couldn't keep up. Harry had broken through those habits of undermining himself upon his return. He had to stand for himself and those that he loved – the cost of not doing so was too high.

"What about me, then? How am I supposed to dissociate myself from her? I don't even know what she eventually became!" Hermione's agitation increased as she protested, "Why shouldn't _I_ be _your_ rock, even though it seems as if you don't need me to be? And if she was, as you said, the woman you, I mean, he loved, without even understanding the fact, why shouldn't I be like her and be the foil for you?" She then stopped and clapped her hands over her mouth as she realised what she had blurted out. Even though she turned away quickly as she blushed, she could feel his grin.

"Hermione, when Voldemort exits this plane, for once and for all, I will go back to being a normal teenaged bloke. And I think when I will look for a girlfriend, you will be right at the top of a very small list," he assured her with a teasing voice. _The short list will only contain one name._ "Do you honestly think that I feel that way in the slightest about anyone but you?" Hermione's blush deepened. "However, I don't want you to be her. As time progressed, she started to feel underappreciated. It was true. That Harry never learnt to say it explicitly. She felt inadequate, as if she had to constantly prove her worth. Her boggart was that she failed her classes. I made fun of that. She must have felt that I only was her friend because of her brains and what she could do for me."

Harry stopped and reared back in shock as he realised that he had been a terrible person to her in that timeline. She was a greater, better person than he ever deserved to have in his life. "I made her feel worthless..." he gasped remorsefully.

"STOP!" ordered Hermione. There was Harry, again taking blame for an action his counterpart through time had shared with several others. He had a part of the blame, but not completely.

"If I ever make you feel that way, slap me silly, Hermione," he added. The very idea that _he_ had made her feel unloved hurt like nothing else. It was eating away at him.

Hermione hugged him hard. He had gone rigid, as he did whenever he was either extremely sad, or angry, or both. She knew that it was the best thing she could do. After three months without, Harry was certainly getting his fill of Hermi-Hugs. At the moment he needed it. "You don't do that, Harry. You make me feel sheltered and coddled, sometimes, but not worthless. Never have you made me feel that." She could feel Harry slowly relax as she held him.

They sat in silence before she prompted him again. "You were telling me why I shouldn't be her."

"Twice in the past two years, Hermione, you have faced dangers that were in truth meant for me. Twice you have come very close to death. You don't understand, but you being petrified nearly destroyed me. That Harry feared you being hurt year after year. And twice more, it happened. Dolohov nearly killed you. Bellatrix tortured you. I mean her," he corrected.

He took a deep breath before speaking again. "She became a woman forged in the fires of war, Hermione. She lived in fear. Fear that that Harry would die, that whatever she did wouldn't be enough. Fear for her parents, that they wouldn't survive. So much so that she modified their memories to make them believe that they had no daughter and exiled them to Australia for their protection."

" ** _So that's what you meant when you said that the Life Debt was inspired by my actions!_** " Hermione thought, though she didn't verbalise that.

"Fear," continued Harry, "that she would live and die without having been truly loved and without having loved in return. She lived a hand-to-mouth existence, for any large amount of food would have helped them detect us. She became an old, careworn woman at nineteen! She had to put away her ambitions to fight a war for her very right to life! She was ambitious, what with her crusades for elf rights. She wanted to change the world and make it fair and just. Instead her world became a moody idiot crippled by a scar and a tent, out on a quest for the darkest things to exist."

"But much of what you say won't even come to pass! So many of the Death Eaters are dead, many more are being killed as we speak. I won't ever have to become her. But that doesn't mean I won't fight by your side, should the time come! Don't treat me like a child!"

"I know that you aren't a child, Hermione."

"But...?"

"But you aren't supposed to be an adult any faster than you need to be. We were not protected by the adults in that timeline. They let a Dark Lord rise. But they left the burden on us – on sixteen and seventeen year olds, damn it! They chose to abnegate and abrogate their duties, their responsibilities and made the wrong choices. That is why I am putting them to work. I am doing the job, politically and through Gringotts because I am uniquely positioned. At the moment, nobody else can. And I am not thinking of just the war, Hermione. Think of what happens thereafter. We know now what the Ministry really is. You will work as just a secretary for some inbred, poncy idiot over my dead body. And mind you, you will get the position as disposable eye-candy, not for your brains, if that lot have their way."

"So I shouldn't let go of the vestiges of normalcy but you should? I should grow to become a competent person in my own time, but you shouldn't?"

"I ceased to be either a child or normal since Halloween 1981. My **_guardians_** and Dumbledore ensured that," Harry spat bitterly. "What you don't get is that it is not a reflection on your ability. For me, personally, and as a tribute to that version of you, it is necessary to give you a safe, secure world. Everything I do is for you and for her. You, Sirius, Moony, Neville, Luna and Amelia, and those related by association, balance out the well-being of the rest of the world in my eyes. I am selfish when it comes to you lot. I could have nothing else in the world but you all and nothing would matter to me. When I have so much power, it begs to be used to protect you. Voldemort never had anything to lose. I do. So I force the issue whenever and wherever I can."

Sometime during his explanation his arms had encircled her, and now they both relaxed in the embrace. It was close, nearly intimate, yet completely innocent.

"I worry about you, you know. I just see you angry, or as you were just after you woke up and it seems as if I am losing my best friend. You aren't the only one who cares for someone to a very great extent."

"I know."

"Well now, isn't this cosy?" Susan asked as she silently crept towards them. In the next instant, she had two wands in her face, and was being deafened by Hermione's unnaturally loud shout of "Don't do that!"

"What is it with you lot?" demanded the bushy-haired witch as she regained her breath. "All the time someone's creeping up on someone else in this house!"

"Just as well," Susan retorted with a faux scandalised tone. "I wonder what my eyes would have been scarred with if I was even a bit late. And that too with the door open!"

"Somehow you are playing the role of the annoying sister to far too much perfection," Harry muttered as he tried to shove her out.

"Oh, was I walking in on something scandalous?"

Harry groaned. Susan could at times be especially infuriating. "Are you not going to get ready? Or do I have to invite Justin and Cedric to get you to freshen up?"

"You wouldn't dare!"

"Susan and Cedric sitting in a tree," sang the raven-haired boy.

"Shut up!"

"Oh, I am sorry! I should have corrected that to Justin!"

"How do you know things in Hufflepuff?"

"You don't even deny it!"

"I swear I will tell Cormac McLagggen that you transfigured his feet into a duck's paddles in the Great Hall!" she threatened.

"Or perhaps I shall tell Megan Jones that you were the one who clipped her right pigtail in Transfiguration before telling her that Ernie liked her better with one..." countered Harry before he was rudely cut off when she muffled his voice with a hand clapped onto his mouth.

Hermione had to laugh as the taller boy wrestled the redheaded Hufflepuff and tried to spout out more secrets from the teenage hormonal cessool their year was rapidly descending into, at the same time. Harry had no family growing up, but she could easily see him and Susan enthusiastically taking up the mantle and annoying each other just because they could. Her laughter drew Susan's attention. "Ooh! Is that ickle Harrykins' diary? What's he written in it?" She snatched it from Hermione and began to read, surreptitiously letting the other girl read over her shoulder.

· Introduce non-magical books to lib. Consult H, GM, other NB and MP. Magi are poor in lit., as with everything else. They don't know basic science.

· Bin Binns.

· Help Argus Filch. A clear case of bigotry – the man is a squib, and is clearly literate, and can manage more than just cleaning jobs. Increase/change job profile and increase pay. Happy employees are good employees. Sponsor a check-up by SM orthopaedic healers. The man has arthritis.

· Convince D to allow third party/Gringotts to conduct quarterly audits. A CA would do nicely. Magicals don't have those.

· Katie, Sally-Anne can't be the only remaining Potters. Find them.

· Start an orphanage/children's rescue home in the erstwhile Knockturn Alley for orphaned/abused children. Should be overseen by a new section of The Charlus and Dorea Potter Foundation, to be started on the 16th January. Modus operandi to be similar to Child Services in non-magi world.

· Eventually veer Potter seat to the gray.

"You have thought so far?" asked Hermione. The orphanage, the search for the Potters touched her. It told her of the quest Harry really was on – family. There was no need to know her ideas about the library. She was already planning lists of recommendations.

"Pooh! You haven't written anything really private," grumbled Susan at the same time.

"Do you honestly believe that I'd do something as intrinsically asinine as keeping a diary a written record of my secrets which may easily be compromised?" Susan grumbled some more. Turning to Hermione he answered with far more confidence than he felt, "Yes. Voldemort is not long for the world. Those things that I have jotted down are my ways to contribute to the betterment of this society."

"HARRY, SUSAN, HERMIONE!" Moony yelled from downstairs. "ARE YOU LOT READY?"

"HERMIONE AND I ARE, BUT SUSAN ISN'T! CAN WE DITCH HER?"

"DON'T BEHAVE LIKE A LITTLE BOY! TELL HER THAT WE ARE LEAVING FOR LONGBOTTOM HALL IN TEN!"

"ALRIGHT!" shouted Harry, even as the girls chortled at him being called a little boy. "GET READY SUSAN!" he yelled as he stood right next to her. He didn't wait around for the swat she aimed at him in response.

"Honestly, he is such a boy!"

* * *

A knock sounded on the room which Sirius and Amelia were using. Fastening the buttons on his shirt, Sirius opened it to see a very nervous Harry standing outside.

"Come in pup."

"Aunt Amy, you have to extricate the Harp!"

This seemingly random start to the conversation put Amelia off her game. "What are you saying?"

"The Horcrux in the museum is Helga Hufflepuff's Harp. I was scrying using the link. I found the other two existing bits - Gryffindor's Battlestaff and the Harp. He is also planning something for today – it's his birthday!"

Amelia tied her hair back as she swivelled away from the dressing mirror to face her honorary nephew/godson. "Tell me everything!"

"You have a leak in the Ministry. They have found out that the Aurors are killing and executing the marked Death Eaters, and that the Aurors are not telling you to preserve your status of plausible deniability. Voldemort is going out for something he calls his army in reserve. He is also going to pull something to 'distract the Ministry'."

"Inferi," deduced Sirius.

"Did you find out where the Staff is hidden?"

"No. I had to be very careful. I don't know how far I can delve before he detects my presence or if he even can."

"No. Indeed not," she agreed. "We can make do with what we have at the moment."

She grabbed her stuff and rushed to the bathroom. "Sorry Siri, but I think this takes precedence today."

"Of course, Amelia," Sirius agreed in a long-suffering voice. He had such plans for the day, and then that bugger Voldemort had to ruin them all! Well, at least they were not in the middle of those plans. If she had to leave then, it would have been awkward. He had meant to ease her into the fact that he had found Marlene after all!

* * *

Along with a grumpy Neville, who was evidently hiding his revulsion for what he had had to do with his demeanour, the party of five floo'd The Burrow. No sooner had they landed and dusted themselves (lurched to his feet, in Harry's case; the floo and portkey were his enemies, damn it!) than Harry found himself in yet another hug, this time from Ginny.

"Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" she chanted as the other Weasleys, his four travelling companions and Luna looked on. Well to be precise the others looked on, while Hermione frowned and scowled. After nearly a minute, she let go of him.

"You are...er...welcome. But what are you thanking me for?"

"They got the piece of Tom removed from me!" She was evidently very happy about that, and Harry could certainly empathise.

"Ginny! Hush!" the girl's mother rightly scolded. Such things were not to be shouted about. "You were right, you know," Mrs. Weasley said to Harry as she moved in to manhandle his ribs. "We checked with the Healer you recommended. We missed it for months, but you found out and helped her again. Ginny is herself again, finally."

Harry tried smiling, but he truly couldn't. He had actually harmed her before Luna had set him straight. He couldn't honestly take the praise. He smiled at Luna in thanks passed the praise on where it was due. "It was actually Luna who pointed it out to me," he declared.

"How did she know?" Mr. Weasley demanded.

"I don't know. She told me that I had Wrackspurts around my scar before. When that was treated, she told me they were gone. Last week she told me that they were there around Ginny as well. She didn't know how to tell you that, so I just passed on that message."

Now Molly found a new target for her smothering hug.

For the next five minutes, the twins bantered with Ron and the two they would pass on the baton to after they passed out of Hogwarts. Harry kept a weather eye on their youngest sister. She was different as compared to the Ginny he had known for six years. She was buzzing around, and was certainly in a very bright mood. The word to describe her, really, was the word that Molly had once used proudly for her daughter – spritely. Most importantly, it was rather obvious that it wasn't an act. It was as if a shadow had been lifted from her being. She wasn't glaring angrily and staring covetously at Harry as she used to. It seemed Riddle really had done a number on her.

Ron saw what he was observing. "Yeah, she was originally like that."

" _An observant Ron?"_ thought Harry. " _Would wonders ever cease?_ "

"We were worried you know," the redhead continued. "She was not herself for so long, was snappish, and was almost being cruel. I mean teasing Percy about his letters to that prefect, Penelope Clearwater is one thing, but reading them out aloud at dinner and making cruel comments about them is not done, you know. We thought he was going to cry or something! After she was cured, she is, I dunno, happy!"

Had that been a contributing factor to Ron's eventual degradation? He had his own issues, and Ginny's behaviour would have really become the stick that broke the camel's back, if she had treated him the same in the other timeline. He caught Hermione's eye and by the way she was glancing between Ron and Ginny, it was obvious that she was thinking the same thing. It had come very close on the heels of their thoughts about the redhead. Casting the maudlin thoughts away, he clapped Ron on his back and replied, "As long as she is well, and away from Voldemort's influence. Is Percy alright now?"

"He went all angry and defensive, before. But since we went to get her treated, he has been treating her like she's five. She is being understanding enough. Percy doesn't show it, but he is afraid for her," George explained. "She would have snapped **_before_**."

"Yeah, away from the git's influence, she is back to being our ickle Gin-Gin. The one with him still around was not a good version of her," Fred agreed.

"She was even playing malicious pranks on us," George pointed out. "We don't set out to purposely hurt anyone as she did, really, though we wouldn't say no to a bout of hurt for the Malfoys if they were still around," he added with some heat.

* * *

"Bloody Morgana's heaving tits!" swore Ron as soon as he landed outside the doors. "Gods, Harry, this is in the middle of nowhere!"

"Just wait until you get inside, though. I need your full names, Weasleys. I have to add you with your middle names, I didn't know them."

"Fredrick Gideon Weasley, George Fabian Weasley, Ronald Bilius Weasley and Ginevra Molly Weasley," Fred rattled off.

"That's a c and a k at the end of your name, isn't it?"

"Yes."

Harry hurried in and added their names, allowing them entry. He wasn't so foolish as to allow them full entry, but at the moment, this was the gauge for Ron. If he managed to suppress his jealousy, he would do well. If not, well, he wouldn't exactly remember the day or the place. After all, only Arthur and then Bill would be the ones who would have business there in their positions as Heads of House Weasley.

"Holy –" muttered Fred.

"– Merlin!" completed George.

"This is so beautiful!" Susan breathed. "It's far larger than ours!"

"And it is all built by hand. My ancestors added to it with their own efforts," Harry replied. The pride he felt as a Potter was quite distinct in his voice. The people spread around as Remus gave them a tour of the place. They were too enthralled to comment. Harry went off on his own business.

"Master Harry!" exclaimed Beat.

"How are you Beat?" Harry asked the old elf.

"I'm still doing my work, Master Harry."

"That is alright, Beat, but are you taking adequate rest? Do you need help around here? I hope you are in good health." Since Harry had offered Dobby the chance to be Dobby Potter, he had done so to all the elves under his employ. Three had accepted, though they had still chosen to stay back and work, while the other thirty three had refused.

"Beat is being very good Master," the elf replied. The Master had his foibles. "Tilly and Fog be having two babies!"

"Can I see them?"

"Yes Master!"

Harry had to admit, the baby elves were – there was no other word for them – absolutely cute and adorable with their big eyes and little hands. They looked a lot like few-day-old kittens. And they fit on one palm, and were very soft and they were babies!

"Master should be naming them!" requested Tilly, the proud father. The little kits looked up at him and whimpered a little.

"Pippin, for this one," Harry said of the male, who seemed like a Philip. "And she is Andy."

"They are so cute," Hermione said from beside him, making him jump, just a teensy bit.

"They are, aren't they? They are special. They signify the rebirth of the House of Potter. They are the first births since my parents' deaths."

In that moment, Hermione saw another facet to Harry – that of a young Heir with the ambition to uphold the family name and honour. He felt the whole impact of the history of the Potters and the responsibility thereof was the legacy of his forefathers and he cared for that. The elves were a part of the greater Potter family, and Harry felt kinship with them as well. She smiled at the little kits and carefully took Pippy and Andy from his hands. A feeling of belonging, inexplicable but not unwelcome washed over her. She felt that these little ones belonged to her, in a way, just as she did to them. It added to the feeling of homely belonging and ownership that had been tugging at her heart since she entered the gates.

Tilly was watching her and the Master intently and nudged Fog, who gestured at Beat. "Is this being friends of Master's?"

"Yes, Beat. This is Hermione Granger, the future Lady Dagworth-Granger."

"Beat is being welcoming you to Potter Manor, Mistress Hermione." Neville, Susan, Remus and Harry all widened their eyes at this address, though it missed the attention of the others, including Hermione. Remus gave Harry a look that said they would talk about this later.

"This is Neville, Heir Longbottom-Dearborn and custodian Heir of our House."

"Welcome back Master Neville! You came here to play when you and Master Harry were smaller than Pippin and Andy!" The adoring voice with which Beat recounted it made the boys grin.

"This is," Harry pointed at Moony.

"Mister Moony!" the elf recognised. "Beat is being very happy to see you!"

"And so am I to see you, Beat. How have you been?"

"I'm being working!"

"This is Fred, this is George, this is Ron and this is Ginny. They are the Weasleys."

"Of the Ancient House, Master?"

"The very same, Beat."

"Welcome back to the manor, Miss Weasley, Mister Weasleys. Beat is remembering your granddaddy Septimus coming here to meet Master Charlus. He was very good man."

"Thank you Beat," George replied.

"And this is Luna Lovegood," Harry introduced the last of the party.

"Oh! Beat is remembering Miss Luna as well! You is being Miss Celeste's daughter no? You were the last old friend of Master Harry to visit, before Master James and Mistress Lily went away to the Fae." His face turned sorrowful as he remembered his past Masters. Then he smiled tremulously and asked the lone remaining redhead, "If you all is here, then you must be Miss Susan? You liked Master Prongs' antlers!"

Susan laughed as she said, "You are the second person to tell me that. I think I can faintly remember coming here."

They roamed some more for an hour. The visitors were enthralled by the port and garage. Hermione claimed the library. But the Room of Requirement's smaller version took the cake. A roam out in the grounds was very well-received as well.

They were all sitting on the grounds on a large blanket, when Fog popped in near Hermione and asked, "Should we be serving lunch, Mistress?" This time nobody missed it. Hermione narrowed her eyes at Harry who raised his hands in supplication. He honestly didn't know what the elves were up to.

"Fog, just a light lunch will suffice," he answered in her stead. This time Fog narrowed her eyes at him. So he narrowed his own at her. Grumbling, the elf popped off.

"What the hell was that?" he asked no one in particular. Nobody answered, though the looks that the twins, Susan, Neville, and even Ron, wore, worried him very much.

"Harry James, you are going to tell me why they are calling you Master and me Mistress! Have you enslaved sentient creatures?"

"Firstly, no. They are most certainly not slaves. They are family retainers. I gave them all, all thirty six of the Potter elves, the same option I gave Dobby. I would give them freedom, but they would be bound to me as they need the magic of the House. They also can't procreate without a bond, and the Master's permission, apparently, so I gave them all my permission to have children, like Pippin and Andy. Beyond that, I know as much as you do."

The explanation would have calmed down Hermione, had Fog not popped in and declared with a tone which was clearly meant to chastise Harry, "Hosting the feast is the Mistress' job, so Fog is asking Mistress! Master orders, so here is lunch!"

"HARRY!"

Harry gulped in terror. Remus started snickering as he moved to protect his cub. "Don't worry about the Mistress part, Hermione. The Potter elves have a very interesting...way of addressing people if they feel like it...let us say. This is part of that. Unless you want to, you aren't obligated to pay attention to what they say."

That set them all off. Harry chanced a glance at the youngest Weasleys. Ginny was a bit crestfallen, but was laughing with the others. Ron was a pleasant surprise. Neither was he showing signs of jealousy, nor was there any anger over what the elves were implying. **(It by no means meant that he would stop checking for any sort of mind-altering potions or spells or anything. A very Dumbledore-ish solution it was, but all mail to Hermione was already passing through the wards of The Marauders' Place. However, even if Hermione didn't know it, David and Jean did, and the process had their blessing. They also had Harry's oath that he would do no such thing like mind-alterations bar the life debt to her.)**

Had his actions hitherto caused such a massive difference as Luna had predicted? It was a happy happenstance. However, it scared Harry to see him have a small discussion with the other males and Luna, and worst of all, Susan. Nothing good would come out of it, he was sure. Hermione glared at him, though he could see streaks of red colouring her cheeks. He remained unsure whether he should be scared or happy. She was going to demand answers later, he was sure. So he was going to summon Fog or Beat or Tilly to answer them.

* * *

As the others roamed some more on the grounds, Harry accosted Neville. "Are you alright?" he asked without much preamble.

"I am fine," Neville grunted.

"Pull the other one, Neville."

"What do you care, Harry? To you it seems as easy as eating porridge! Not everyone can go on as if everything is normal after killing a human!"

"Is it so?" Harry felt hurt. Of all the people around him, he had expected Sirius and Neville to understand the necessity of eliminating people like Crouch. "Do you regret it now? Do you feel as if you should apologise to Crouch? Or are you, and by extrapolation am I a murderer like the Death Eaters that we killed? Or do you only regret taking a life?"

"You don't understand it, do you?"

"What don't I understand?"

"I hated myself, Potter! I hated myself! But I only felt bad for about three hours! When I then went to meet my parents, and saw what I did to the person who did that to them, I felt proud! I BLOODY FELT PROUD OF MYSELF FOR KILLING A HUMAN! IT MADE ME HAPPY! THE REVENGE MADE ME FEEL HAPPY! I WAS HAPPY TO KILL SOMEONE!"

And the hurt was replaced by bewilderment. Never did Harry expect this to happen to gentle old Neville, ever.

"I – you are right, mate. I don't know about it. I have, after all, only killed two people directly, and one of them was by accident. And if I remember right, you were miffed that I didn't let you take a chance at Snivellus."

That deflated Neville's bluster as he subsided, all sails flapping. "Don't you understand? I have become a stone-cold killer! I felt happy with his pain and death! I have become a monster! If I now have to kill again, I fear I'll never stop!"

"Oh stop it Neville! If that were true, you would have rushed off on a crusade to take them all out before the Ministry could! If you liked killing, you'd have turned on both friend and foe. By now, you'd have gone berserk. You haven't."

"Oh I really want to kill you sometimes, you git."

"That's me, Dark Lords, existing or budding, they find me irresistible to kill."

"With a smart-alec mouth like that, even **_Mistress_** Hermione would want to kill you."

"She does threaten me once a day when we are at school. You must be right."

Neville raised a stone chair out of the ground offhandedly and plopped himself onto it, before raising one for Harry as well.

"Someone's been practising their element, I see."

"It's a part of what I fear Harry. I thought of all the creative ways in which I could have killed him. And after the initial burst where I felt dirty, I wondered whether I could have ended it all quickly, or in a way that let everyone know what they had done and let them be dead by execution. They just needed to be alive for that, not necessarily complete. Could have just pierced their limbs through with stone spikes, you know? With such thoughts running in my head, and with the elemental power, I could easily go down the wrong path."

"Neville, do you honestly think that Hermione, Luna, Aunt Amy, Susan, Granny Min, Gran, Sirius or Moony would let either of us go down the Dark Path, as you so euphemistically called it? Having Dark thoughts, and acting on them are two different things. We are not Voldemort. I want to torture Peter even now. We always hate them till such a time that we realise that they mean nothing anymore. We are human. It is human nature."

Neville let out a deep breath. "Are you saying that I won't or am incapable of going dark?"

"You fear going dark, Nev. You look to your friends and family for assurance that you won't. You trust people to help you out. That renders you incapable of going dark, because when we reach out, the people who truly love us reach right back and pull us from the brink. You didn't kill because you wanted to. You were helping the Law, and it was a necessary action at that moment."

Neville hunched over with his elbows on his knees. Harry glanced at his watch and stood up, slapping Neville on the back. "It will make you grow a lot, all of a sudden, but it won't make you bad. Tell you what; you can talk to the woman who's helping Padfoot."

"It was revenge for me! They say revenge doesn't help," Neville called at Harry's retreating figure.

"Whoever 'they' are, probably never had anything worth avenging," came the reply. "And if they did, they must have had other ways planned to seek revenge."

Neville nodded pensively, but remained seated for a while, staring into the distance. Then he sank the chairs and followed his brother.

* * *

They were just getting ready to leave for The Lion's Den, when Padfoot the Patronus came bounding up at them. Sirius' voice practically roared, "EMERGENCY! RETURN HOME, NOW! SEND WEASLEYS BACK BY PORTKEY, MOLLY ORDERED! RETURN IMMEDIATELY! HOW IS HARRY?"

Nobody could make any sense of this. So return they did.

Sirius was waiting at the door and grabbed Harry in a rib-crushing hug. "You are alive," he panted. "I was worried."

"Of course I am alive!" Harry squawked. "What happened, exactly? We were with Moony, and all of us can wield a wand and more!"

"You tell me when you see that!" Sirius retorted. "This came in the Ministry about an hour ago. Everyone's been in a tizzy!"

It was a memory.

Sirius poured it into the pensieve he had retrieved from Harry's room and tapped the rune that would project the image above the bowl.

 _"_ _You have killed our loyal ones, Ministry of Magic."_

It was Voldemort. He recognised the voice immediately. "It's the voice of the man he's currently possessing," reported Harry.

Sirius, who had a snifter of brandy in his hand nodded absently.

 _"_ _While you were spending time on your so-called ideas of justice, we have decided to avenge those of our numbers."_

An image of a trussed up hostage was unveiled.

" _You hurt us. Now we shall hurt you where you cannot recover._ "

The cloth covering the boy's face was forcibly removed. It was a gagged Harry. There were severe welts on his face and his eyes were swollen. It was obvious that he had been physically tortured for hours. Oddly there was no comprehension of the words being spoken.

" _On our birthday, this is the gift we give you._ "

Avery stepped up behind the boy and plunged a knife deep into the boy's chest. There was one loud, seemingly never-ending scream which died with the boy. It was remarkable and rather pertinent that the scream was more like a pig being culled. Gibbon then joined his mate as the audience saw them repeatedly raise their weapons to cut the poor boy into pieces.

The people around Harry all stiffened and gasped in shock.

" _On the day that we started life, the Boy-Who-Lived dies, as does the year." Voldemort the narrator, was then joined by his two remaining cronies as they sang,_

 _"_ _We wish you a Happy New Year,_

 _We wish you a Happy New Year,_

 _We wish you a Happy New Year,_

 _Under Lord Voldemort's Rule!"_ "

The tune was of the popular Christmas carol. Trust Voldemort to make even that sinister.

" _Just so that you may know, we wanted to spread the celebratory cheer. Every wizarding home, and every mudblood and half-blood as well, shall get this memory. We hope you preserve it. It is the herald of our victory, of our immortal rule!_ "

The 'video' ended.

"You can well imagine the worry that this has caused. I have had letters from Hogwarts, Dumbledore personally, Andy, Augusta, most of the Wizengamot, the three Ministers, our account managers and just about everyone you'd care to mention. Even David called on the mirrors. An owl posted moving pictures of the incident to them." Hermione, who was clutching Harry's hand, gave a slight shudder and squeezed the hand she held.

Minerva bustled in with calming draughts. Her eyes had traces of red rims. It was obvious that the first viewing of the 'video' had affected her badly. Everyone accepted the libations. Harry winced. He was not being entirely truthful in his behaviour with her, but she on the other hand was now very heavily invested in him as her grandson.

Finally Harry spoke, with mirth colouring his voice. "This is so adorably unimaginative, even as a diversion. Touch wood, but this was an excellent opportunity to introduce doubts about my credibility."

"What? Harry, can you imagine the impact it has had? And that boy who died in your place..."

"It was a transfigured animal, Sirius. It was not a scream, but a squeal of terror just like a pig makes. It did not flinch or attempt to move away from the knife which was in 'his' field of vision, initially. Even under the threat that if I resisted, they would kill you all, there is a fairly good possibility that my survival instinct would make me twitch if not run. The body was too easy to cut with just a knife. The knife used to kill was a dagger, but in their attempt to make it cold and perfect, they went for the overkill. Gibbon, whose family owns the second largest magical abattoir used a butcher's hatchet which was ever so conveniently at hand. Transfigured animals revert to their base form when killed. We did not see the pieces of my dead body - we only saw them cutting me up. Ergo the body was not human. It would have marred the effect of their performance."

Sirius rewound the memory and confirmed it. "But at first glance, people would only imagine your dying scream."

"That was what he was looking for, Sirius. This is the classic distraction. I was expecting this. I warned Aunt Amy just this morning."

Sirius looked at his godson in shock for a moment before his brain caught up and he connected the dots. "The army he'd hold in abeyance..."

Amelia's mare came in at just that moment. "You were right, Sirius. One thousand eight hundred and thirty two graves all over Britain have burst open. Magic detected. The numbers are rising."


	45. Chapter 45

**Hermione's idea und Rache et Vitam Novam**

A/N: We are about 75% through at the end of this chapter. There will be a return for Daphne soon. Apart from a proper continuation with the outline, I have got to fit it all so everything falls in line with the last chapter. I know of people reading the book last chapter first, but, honestly, writing a story that way? Timeline: 17th December to 3rd January Christmas/Yule holidays. Added one week due to Dumbledore's incapacitation and administrative work.

A part of this chapter was, in its sentiment, inspired by Sugarbubbleslove's ' **Ghost of You** '. It is a cracking story.

* * *

"Padfoot..."

Sirius looked up from the book he was reading. Well, up was a relative term, considering the fact that he had propped his legs and feet on the back of the chair, was somewhat seated on the same chair, and his head was on the ground. Then again, Harry was standing. Harry had caught up with his dogfather at a very, very rare quiet moment inside The Marauders' Place. The antics of Voldemort had shaken people quite a bit, and everyone with access to the place had taken to camping long hours in the security of obscurity – and that included the lawyers.

About the only good thing that had come out of it was that it had driven home the fact that the threat was rather real to all members of the magical community. People were back to the old times, asking security questions or oaths, password protecting floo fires and the works. The Grangers, on a personal level for Harry, were also spending more time with the residents of Marauders' Place. The government bonds that were made with the Aurors in mind were in high demand at Gringotts. People wanted a share in their own protection, either by wand or gold.

The things that rubbed Harry the wrong way, though he didn't show it, was when Sirius asked him to give Dumbledore restricted access, which meant he could not recommend or talk about the place to anyone else, or even come through the even the floo without someone letting him in. The Headmaster had not come to the place yet, but then again, the letter had been sent through the floo to his office, with Hedwig holding it in her beak, only fifteen minutes prior. Hedwig was enjoying the long flight back from Hogwarts, obviously happy at getting a chance to stretch her wings.

"Hmm?"

"I am sorry."

"What for?" asked a puzzled Sirius.

Harry attempted to glare at his godfather for his apparent obliviousness. Sirius was making it difficult for him. He had to apologise to him anyway, though, so he blurted out his words a bit fast and nervously.

"After I attempted to crucify Crouch and you stunned me, I was brooding and stewing a bit and we did not speak. I was angry at myself for losing control."

"Oh." Sirius attempted to twist around and get up, but was entirely unsuccessful, so he then tried to move in every manner that would let him face Harry. He couldn't. "A little help would do well, please, Pup..." he requested.

Harry obediently grabbed his godfather by the shoulders and dragged him into an upright sitting position. "You know, you could have just transformed into Padfoot or your lion form and rolled over." Sirius only grinned sheepishly as he plopped into the same chair.

Harry stood looking at him a bit expectantly. Sirius blinked and gazed at him stupidly for a minute, before he caught the link again.

"There's no point apologising Harry. Merlin knows how much you are truly like James often."

"What?"

"That day, I didn't stun you just because you were about to use an Unforgivable, Harry." At his godson's persistent questioning look, Sirius sighed and continued, "Alice and Frank weren't the first to be tortured into insanity, you know."

"Yes, I do. Bella short-circuited several more people."

"Hmm. True; but I was talking about people short-circuited by people on our side."

Harry looked surprised for a moment, then shocked as his eyes widened in recognition and understanding. "Dad?" he correctly guessed.

Sirius nodded. "A few days, a month I guess, after Snivellus murdered Aunt Dorea and Uncle Charlus, we were moving as a group. The rat wasn't with us, obviously. It was sort of an intervention for Prongs. James, you see, could keep a grudge forever, unlike Lily, who would vent it out in one go. We were sure that James was about to go on a killing spree if we let him stew. He could brood and internalise the anger like the best of them.

"Anyway, that day, we were set upon by a group of those idiots. You know Evan Rosier?"

"The bloke who got a bit of Mad-Eye's nose before Moody offed him?"

"That's the one. So well, coming back to that incident; Evan's brother, Blake was in that group. He was the first to fire. He fired at Lily – a pregnant Lily."

Harry didn't need an explanation. It was obvious that his father would have gone berserk – as would have Moony and Padfoot.

"We didn't hold back. I was known as a killer anyway, and with Lily and you in danger, we took them out rather efficiently. They were just six of them, including Blake, and Lily dispatched one with a particularly vicious vanishing spell aimed at the man's blood."

Harry grinned. His mum was brilliant, and vicious. Even Sirius grinned. Lily in a fight was a sight to behold. She could be an angel, but in a fight she was an insane demon.

"Anyway, James was duelling Blake Rosier, by the end. With three dead, two very injured, Rosier was the last one left. Then James showed us why he could have been a good Death Eater, and also proved he had Black blood in him."

Harry staggered a bit at Sirius' assertion that his dad could have been a Death Eater with his innate cruelty. It was true. James was a good man to his friends and family and in general, but to his enemies... "Dad used the Cruciatus on him, didn't he?"

"Yes. James was my best friend, my brother in all ways that mattered, Harry. But that day, I was scared of him. There is anger and then there is **_hatred_**. James did not stop till Rosier went way past brain damage to being brain dead to finally dying more painfully than I'd wish even Riddle to die."

Harry blanched slightly at that. On one hand, the immediate and cruel dispatching of the Death Eater was laudable – but then was it necessary to torture Rosier beyond just killing him quickly? There was killing and there was murder. James had strayed down the path of murder, and it was only the moral discussion of whether the murder of a murderer was a murder or a killing that had stopped either of Harry and Sirius, with their fluid definitions of darkness, from terming it as Dark. Harry's silence was an unspoken response of understanding. But then again, in his Dad's position, Harry truly couldn't see how he could have reacted any differently either.

"It was the same way with you," Sirius continued. "It was the same hatred you showed. I saw James again, only at his worst moment."

Harry ducked his head in slight shame. Sirius was right.

"I know you speak a lot to supplement what you are forcing the Ministry into doing so that people take you seriously and at face value, but I also know that you will go back to slinking in the shadows and brooding once this Voldemort is done," Sirius continued.

Harry opened his mouth – not to protest but to gape. Sirius took that as an attempt to interrupt and held up a hand to stop Harry's protest.

"I know you have James on a pedestal, which is good. But James was a man as well, which means he had flaws. With the position you will now be in, those flaws will be severely detrimental later when you get placed as the wizard everyone will look to as they did Dumbledore."

"Nobody's going to look at me as they did Dumbledore, Sirius," Harry scoffed. "Apart from the things that we disagree with him about, he was the teacher for several generations. They have watched him as they grew up to be adults. They have had him as an authority figure all their life. I would never be regarded the way he is even if I wanted to..."

"And the same people are now watching you grow into an adult, Harry, and they are watching you become an authority figure. Who do you think they are looking at now for the Riddle situation?"

"They look at us because they see us doing things to get things moving along! Once Riddle is gone and with the reworked and better laws firmly in place, we will be able to slink into the shadows! And I say we because my votes are registered, if only to lend my support. I am not foolish enough to think that I have no political power. But I am sure it will wane over time on its own, once Voldemort is gone."

Sirius looked at his godson and blinked. Then he threw back his head and laughed as if he had been told the greatest joke ever. "Sometimes...sometimes Prongslet, you manage to outthink the sneakiest person out there, and then there are times like this when you show such naivety that it's absolutely amusing," he said with mirth.

"What do you mean?" Harry demanded with a frown.

"Pup, what do you think people discuss with me apart from business?"

"Uh...no. NO idea whatsoever."

"They ask me how you are doing, how your studies are progressing..."

"...as they would ask any father about his son," interrupted Harry.

Sirius continued nevertheless. "They also ask me what your thoughts on the topics for the day's discussion are..."

"...as they want to be seen asking after four houses..."

"...and known votes going against ours turn in our favour!" Sirius completed, slightly angrily.

"They do what?" asked Harry in shock.

Sirius frowned. "Really, Harry, I cannot see why that comes as a shock to you. Surely, now that you see the power you command through your Houses, it should be obvious that your views are considered an important factor in determining the fate of a bill?"

"I honestly didn't expect that it would mean that much. I mean, all along I thought the political power was based on being The Boy-Who-Lived, and Voldemort being alive. I hate it, but I'd milk it anyway. Every little bit helps."

"You don't have to. People are already rallying around you. Which is why you have to keep yourself clean, give them an impeccable image to see. I understand you'll kill a few more. Just don't let it be in such a way that it paints you as a desperate man. You should be seen as the reluctant hero or leader, depending on what you want to do in future..."

"I just want sanity to prevail. I want all the Death Eaters and Riddle and their very propaganda dead. And I want Moony, Hermione and Dobby and everyone else to live normally and happily, minding their own business and not being discriminated against. Thereafter, I will be perfectly happy being left alone as I work as a technomancer and earn lots of money from it, watch Puddlemere and Arsenal whip the rest of the respective leagues and Europe as well; then have a girlfriend and then a family."

"That is a perfectly good goal to have," Sirius commended. "However, it is unrealistic, which was why I had to guard you against the pitfall I saw..."

"I know, Padfoot. I understand. I am sorry..."

"Apology accepted, Pup. It is water under the bridge," Sirius cut in, waving his hand expansively. "There is a reason why you are a teenager and I am the grown-up, technically. You will make mistakes, and James and Lily did put me in charge to curb them and correct you, for what it is worth. So as I was saying before you interrupted me, you have to be seen as the reluctant leader; a person who has responsibility thrust on him due to circumstances. You probably think forcing the issues as was necessary with the Death Eater purge will work, but it won't, not always. Public perception has to be handled carefully, and not just against that faction. This is just like Hermione's way of dealing with errant allies and your handling of the Weasleys. Do you understand?"

"Yes Sirius. I know that. But there is nothing at the moment to create positive public perception..."

"There is. And with that in mind, you have to do something that you should have done already, anyway, but the delay is excusable under the circumstances. You have to host a meeting of the Houses and the respective Vassals. This one is on me, for I should have warned you of this in advance. Still, you can still write an official letter of Welcome. I will dictate one to you, so that you will know the official format and language."

Harry nodded. "This is going to be a lot more difficult, isn't it?"

"It's not rocket science pup. You have to hear out their problems, not threaten them with Judgement all the time as you did Dumbledore, find viable solutions, lend help, and the works. Take, for example, the case of House Dumbledore. Your differences with the current Head aside, the House has no Heir. You might have seen that the family wealth is nothing to write home about. To all intents and purposes, the House will die out with the current generation. As such, the Headship will then default to the nearest living magical relative, or in the absence of such, to you. As it happens, you _seem_ to be the closest living magical relative."

"I DON'T WANT TO..."

"I know," Sirius countered authoritatively. "So instead of getting angry at the mere mention of the very idea, you will pre-empt the impending situation, lean on Gringotts a bit and find a viable Heir before Dumbledore names you as such."

"Oh."

"Voldemort and a decaying society is not the only problem pup. Even for something to decay, it has to have been robust and has to have thrived before to some extent at least. The way I see it, there has been enough tearing down and amputation of gangrenous flesh. It is important now to salvage what remains and repair what can be repaired. It's not all reconstruction, though that is important."

Harry blinked. For all the good advice his godfather could give, those weren't the words or the tone Sirius would truly deign to use. "Are you drunk or are you reading?"

Sirius frowned, though crowing internally at the levity he had introduced to what portended to be a Sirius argument. "I am practising. They require me to speak like this as Ambassador Black."

"Ah!" Harry acted like he understood while wondering how and when his apology had turned tangent to House Matters and an impromptu tutorial.

Sirius observed his godson intently. Harry was diligently listening to everything he was being told, but there was a slight frown. Harry was thinking. And it didn't necessarily mean it was a good thing. The last time he had seen it was when James had finally come clean to Lily about why they hated Snivellus and had unmasked him thoroughly in their sixth year. Lily had listened with the same frown. It had then eased out into a sense of resignation mingled with defiant obstinacy, just as Harry's had. When nearly thirty minutes later the impromptu lecture was done, and Harry stood to leave, Sirius asked, "What have you just decided?"

Harry looked at him in a questioning manner.

"Just tell me."

Harry shrugged. "Leaders should not be mortally feared or hated; they should be respected."

* * *

While Sirius was receiving an apology from Harry, Hermione was sitting in the library, accompanied by her parents. The first two days of January, a very convenient weekend, were mostly spent by the elders and adults ramping up the protections. Harry might have been blasé about the video itself, but the ramifications of the videos reaching their targets at all were not at all good. It could have been worse, had Voldemort not been possessing a muggle body in the interim.

"What are you thinking, Kitten?" Jean asked.

Luna, who was playing with Crookshanks, attempting to hypnotise him with a ball of yarn, looked up blankly, then realised that it was Jean's name for Hermione. She too, however, had seen that Hermione was deep in thought, or torn about something. This would be interesting.

"Nothing, Mum. I am reading."

"And you are stuck on the same page for what," she glanced at the rotating clock fixed into the table, "fifteen minutes?"

Hermione reddened a bit. Of course her mother would catch her. She bothered her lower lip for a moment. "I am thinking..."

"Yes. I gathered as much. What are you thinking?"

"It's something Harry told me about. The House of Potter intends to wrest economic control to enforce its political agenda."

"And he has named you a representative?" Jean chided.

"No, of course he hasn't," Hermione replied with a disdainful sniff. "But, it was something that has stayed in my mind, and it makes sense and I have got an idea and I think he should do it. But I don't know whether he will do it and I intend to ask him or Sirius about it and whether it is practical, though I think it is, but it will take the Potters back to when they were dark..."

"Dark?" asked Jean, halting Hermione's slightly frenzied discourse. "What do you mean Dark?"

"Mrs. Granger, depending on their predilection towards any particular stand on political policy, or magical rites or use of rituals, the Houses in the Magical World have been classified traditionally as being Dark, Light or Neutral. House Potter has, for most of its history been a Dark House, not only because adhered to the old ways, but also because of its fondness for causing, mongering and fighting wars. Harry is carrying forward the traditions," Luna explained. At Jean's raised eyebrows she elaborated, "The House has one of the bloodiest and most well-chronicled history in the magical world."

"So he is dark?"

"I think it is a quaint description, don't you think? It is a matter of perspective."

"So how does your idea make the House of Potter darker?" Jean was more interested in what her daughter wanted to suggest.

"Harry has liquid or liquefiable assets. The Houses of Potter, though not the Houses of Peverell, Slytherin and Gryffindor, can actually afford to corner the markets or better still be the market."

"And?"

"By retail purchase rights reserved for allies at slightly less than fair and competitive prices, by competing on the continent, and by stopping supply to British markets, in such a small economy which is practically endemic, the four Houses can cause the British Magical Economy to collapse..."

"... ** _because_** it is endemic in the first place," Jean continued, understanding her daughter's point. "So because instead of killing people, he holds the economy at a ransom, he becomes dark..."

"It's not just that, and you know it. A few days before Christmas, he broke Adrian Pucey's jaw because he called me a mudblood and _then_ dragged him over to the Slytherin Head of House. Pucey lived only because I ordered Harry to not kill him. Otherwise, as my sworn protector, he would be legally bound to kill him. Those idiots behave as if they have a death wish." She paused to let that sink in. "Sirius told us what he was going to do in a fight. He can get overzealous. I am confident that my idea will work. It has to. But it will require controlling Harry."

"You fear that the demands will pervert the intent."

"Yes. That is why I want Sirius to either work on the execution or convince Harry. Surprisingly he has a cooler and saner head."

Jean actually agreed with that. Sirius was certainly not stupid. He was also not as impetuous as he portrayed himself to be. But he was also not the one who would be the face of the plan Hermione had. Then there was the question of it being even possible. "But it's not as if Harry is the richest..."

"No. The Jugson family is the richest. And it has recently lost all three male adults to the Mark," Hermione pointed out. "We checked. The Potters are ninth. Jugson, Black, Forsythe, Baldwin, Bluewater, Goldstein, Selwyn and Fitzgerald are above them. Among those, Black, Bluewater and Fitzgerald are allies. The Goldsteins are not native and so are not allowed much say in the policy matters. But Anthony Goldstein, who is in our year in Ravenclaw, has approached Harry as Heir for House Black, regarding mutually beneficial business prospects. He has an idea for what could be called a start-up. The Baldwin family is neutral and close to extinction. They have contacted the Nation for sponsored heredity tests. Forsythe, Selwyn and Jugson were among the Death Eaters."

"So even if those families are kept out of contention, and not considering Sirius, they will have their own businesses. Why would they allow Harry to invest?"

"Because Harry has something none of the others, again except Sirius, do – political goodwill. The Death Eaters and their Houses will be shunned practically the moment he speaks the word. The Allies are happy with him because of the collapse of the Death Eaters. And Voldemort has been forced to show his hand. So anything that the Boy-Who-Lived says goes."

Jean frowned. "You know, in your letters, you had shown Harry to be a very shy, fame-hating person. I have only seen all evidence to the contrary. Now with your idea, he would become the de facto ruler."

"He still is. Unfortunately, if he shows that side of him, he will be trampled upon; and so will most of the rest of us. The people are sharks; they will scent blood and will be upon the agenda, if they are not kept on a tight leash. It is morally, and ethically repugnant. But it balances out a full-scale civil war. The current crop of the other side's fighters is gone. There still is the next generation, against whom there is no legal ground to move against," Luna pointed out.

And there was really no answer to that. The control had been freed from the other side's clutches. It was necessary to seize it now, before another player came onto the scene or the other side regrouped long enough to fight back.

Jean had a doubt. "Even rich people can't afford that sort of a buying spree, Hermione."

Hermione had a ready answer to that. "That was a hypothetical situation, mother. That extent of control is unnecessary. There is no need to corner all markets. Every commodity or manufacturing-based business, as most of the magical businesses seem to be, are constrained by the supply chain. All he would have to do to control the markets would be control those segments of business. It will choke the rest. Plus, our side, as you say, has a sufficient hold in our banks."

Luna looked far into the distance unblinkingly to evaluate what Hermione had said, while Hermione herself bit her lip and contemplated upon the issue again. They reached the conclusion simultaneously. Luna smiled brightly and stood up. "That's right. I will go fetch the request template. We'll request Goldhaul's office for an audit independently, after we run it past Sirius."

"You can do that?" Jean asked while Luna rummaged in the cupboard for the template for the requests. It was absolutely boring to remember the usual wording. A template could be quickly copied.

"Yes. Goldhaul is our Account Manager for the Dagworth-Granger Accounts as well, Mum. Didn't you know?"

"I only know that we are going to own a bookshop in what used to be that other Alley."

"' **Books and Cleverness** ' is actually a joint venture between the House of Dagworth-Granger and House Peverell. We are going to cater to all kinds of esoteric books and scrolls," Hermione replied excitedly. "It is something Luna and I will run, though the day to day business will be overseen by employees."

Jean often had misgivings about all that one thirteen-year-old was involved in, and dragged his friends into, but the sheer joy on Hermione's and Luna's faces at the prospect was priceless.

"Do you have stakes in other businesses?"

"Not in other new businesses, no. So long as Goldhaul is handsomely paid, he works harder to maximise our profits. But we have renewed eleven two hundred and ninety nine year claims on patents by Hector Dagworth-Granger which would have lapsed in 1996, and ten more which would have lapsed in 2046. We are earning about ninety two thousand galleons that way, with the new royalties. Since the House had lapsed because there was no magical to helm them, there was nobody to ensure that the correct royalties were being paid. The previous contract stipulated a yearly income of a thousand galleons. Now it has been restructured to instead claim twelve and a half percent of the profits. But the victim's compensation is forty percent in investments already, and the rest is in the family vault, because we don't need a new one, seeing as I am the sole Heiress."

And Hermione was learning to manage assets as well, courtesy of the Nation. It was too much, too quick. Where was the time for them to be just teenagers?

"Why, pumpkin? Why Luna? Why are you so interested? What is your motivation?"

"It is our world, Mrs. Granger. We may not fight for it in the same way as Harry is, but that is the point. We shouldn't need to, nor should he."

"Helping Harry was more than just homework and academics, mum. It was the first time where I was _needed_ by anyone outside of home. The whole time after he changed, I have been fighting for things to go back to how they were, because those adventures were my definition beyond just a bookworm. All this while, Harry has been hinting that the battleground has changed. I was resisting it, till he all but explained it to me. This is my contribution."

"And Harry requires it of you?"

"No. I require it of me. It is my chance to go beyond being just a witch to being one who can change her world, bit by bit."

"I just have one fear. There will be violent retaliations."

Hermione actually grinned in a feral manner. "No. There won't."

"Why?"

"Because one of the ways for them to lose it all will be if they hurt any of us, by any means. It won't just be a chokehold on the economy. It will be an insurance cover for us as well."

She really had thought that one out well, Jean mused. "Are you going to ask Sirius now?" she asked.

"I will. But I must first write it down. He says that anyone can throw in ideas as his git of a godson has been doing," she explained, (though the word 'git' was laced with fondness), "but once we start writing it down, breaking everything down to objectives, method, pros and cons and so on, we can come up with better solutions and eventually something that is feasible."

"And has this git of a godson started doing that?"

"Yes. He has managed it a bit. I managed to convince him that until now, he was working on beginner's luck. Now he would have to wrestle it out. That was when I realised the change," Hermione explained with a small grimace. "The infernal prat actually smirked!" she complained.

Jean couldn't help but chortle at that. Hermione was still her 'Pumpkin' enough to tell her when she was troubled by the smirks of infernal prats.

For the next hour or so, the ladies tossed their ideas between themselves. It was different and nice for each. Hermione was actually putting her brain to use (finally). Luna was doing something she had never done before, because she hadn't given it a thought. Jean was controlling the two girls when their thoughts started taking a much larger leap.

When at last they were done, Hermione looked at her sheet of paper slightly proudly and then with eyes shining with her usual enthusiasm reserved for learning, asked, "Are you two coming?"

"I will be along in a minute," Luna replied.

"It's your idea, daughter. Think of it as an assignment," Jean replied as she decided not to go.

Hermione hurried off.

Luna smiled widely. "Welcome back, Hermione Granger!"

* * *

Sirius listened calmly as Hermione presented her idea that afternoon, over four hours later. Sirius had asked for David and Jean to sit in if they wanted, but Hermione had stood firm. She was treating it as a normal presentation to an employer. So the Grangers were being wowed by dragons and griffins and dogs and stags and what-not.

The presentation was marvellous, magnificent and well-done. It was sneaky, he had to admit. It was sneakier than anything he had seen in the recent past, and he had seen a lot of sneaky things.

"...and that way, by targeting niche supplies," Hermione concluded, "alongside all day-to-day requirements, our group will be in control."

Sirius had been nodding at appropriate places. When she was finally done, Sirius leaned back in his swivel chair and swung pensively for a few seconds as he thought it over.

"Good. It's really very good," he finally praised her. "In theory, that is an excellent plan..." he trailed off.

"Yes?"

"You do realise that this will give rise to black marketing, don't you?"

"I am sort of banking on it," Hermione admitted.

"Oh?"

"Were we to allow only retail rights to allies, but still sell at only slightly less than competitive prices from foreign outlets of our businesses to British Nationals, they will attempt to hoard and sell at profit here, driving a competitive black market. That of course means that they will cause more inflation."

Sirius had to fight hard to hide a smile at both her reasoning and the use of the first person collective and possessive pronouns.

"But what do you intend to do if it works without such a drastic measure?"

"Well, the House of Slytherin and Gryffindor are virtually paupers, aren't they? When money has to be diverted to them, even if they are not indebted to anyone, just to ensure that the Gringotts' accounts are not closed, it is not good. Nothing short of selling Gryffindor's works or Slytherin's ships would have brought those Houses to any standard. In peacetime, for this plan, the profits can go to those Houses. New niche businesses for lasting products – say Salazar's magical public or personal transport better than the Knight Bus or broomsticks, or Gryffindor-brand Pensieves, would have the hallmark of excellence and quality while also becoming collectibles in the short term, much like a higher-end variant Mercedes. In fact, if we model the transport thing as a kind of tourism business, taking passengers to places of great importance magically, it will actually be the first in its class. The Founders' Houses still have a halo of mystery and are revered, so why not capitalise?" As usual when excited, Hermione spoke in one breath. The girl had a really powerful pair of lungs.

Sirius grinned widely. He then stood up, pivoted himself on one hand and jumped across the table before perching on it. He then clapped in glee, grabbed her in a hug and twirled her around a bit, eliciting a surprised squeak from her. "You are a genius. You are an honest-to-Merlin genius, little cousin of mine. You have just out-Lily-ed Lily, in my not at all humble opinion! And mind you, it is a bloody difficult thing to do! That thing really will have to work. It is insurance and ransom one way, and a status symbol the other! Wonderful!"

Hermione couldn't help but glow at the praise.

"Write the request letter and bring it to me. I will pass it on to Goldhaul personally. You have got me interested in this! If it works out near your calculations, and if it falls even a bit short, I will loan you money at 1% simple interest pcpa, and help you acquire the Dalton Apothecaries for a ten percent share in the profits," Sirius promised.

Hermione gasped in surprise for a second. Then she flew at Sirius, crushed him in a hug with a chant of, "Thank You!" and rushed off.

Sirius stood astounded for a full minute before he started chuckling. He liked this girl. She had spunk and brains. It was just as well that Prongslet had spoken to her. She was a prize catch, the best there was. And a father always wants the best for his child. As well as he could see, there wasn't anyone else who was as involved in what the pup did, and was as roundly good as she was. And by Merlin, he would set the Pup straight with a clip to the ear, even straying into Vernon Dursley territory ever-so-briefly, if he became anything less than worthy of Hermione. He was letting things be, because the Pup was fighting a war with an adult mind, while Hermione was a teenager only now getting her feet wet.

He stopped abruptly when Hermione peeped back in. "Pad –Sirius? If you see Harry just yet, please tell him from me that his attempts at transduction will be successful if he finds a common conductor for magic and electricity. I forgot to tell him that day we went over to Potter Manor, and since." She hurried back out again.

Sirius resumed chuckling.

* * *

Remus and Harry pulled their cloaks closer around themselves in a vain attempt to combat the overwhelming cold. Twelve years; Sirius had battled the despair and the cold for twelve years. All of a sudden, their respect for Sirius ratcheted up to dizzying levels, as did their sorrow and anger on behalf of the pad footed one.

The two were visiting Azkaban to take into custody the living dead bodies of the Lestranges on behalf of House Black, the last living relatives, disowned or not. It was the third of January, their day of execution. It was the day that the nightmares of Bellatrix killing Sirius and hurting Hermione would be laid to rest, along with the possibilities of that ever happening.

"I am thankful that I am a werewolf for once," Remus muttered with a shudder.

"Huh?"

"For one, I'm protected from the Dementors' effect. For another, wolves can survive in the cold. And for Sirius," he added softly, almost inaudibly.

Harry nodded. Remus had blamed himself for Sirius' escape as a dog, for Peter's escape in the other timeline, and in general because the two had to perform such magic at all. Every once in a while, Sirius had to set the man straight and force him to stop blaming himself, at least temporarily. Faced with the truth of Sirius' kennel for twelve years, he had found himself thanking whatever contrived way Sirius had had to become a dog animagus. Padfoot was furry. That would be at least some nominal respite from the cold.

"We both thought we had it worst, didn't we?"

Remus grunted in a way that wasn't exactly agreement.

"Lestranges!" called the Executor's assistant, extending the 'aa' ridiculously. "The time is forty five minutes past eleven on the third of January. Death Eaters for execution: Rudolphus Brutus, Rabastan Commodus and Bellatrix Callidora Lestrange."

"That's us, then." Remus grabbed his knees and stood up. Harry followed. The chamber where the execution was to be performed was dark. There was a small area set aside with only just about enough sunlight entering from an angle for people to know what was happening in that cordoned off area. Darkness stretched for about five metre on all sides of the stage. Amelia, Remus and Harry were sitting in those, waiting for the Lestranges to be brought in.

She had already been there since an hour before the other two. It had become a horrible Monday ritual for her. Almost every Monday at least one Death Eater was executed, and a member of the Wizengamot and the Head of the DMLE had to be in attendance. This particular execution was one that they were all dreading and rejoicing about.

"I am trying to not be happy, vindictively happy," she softly commented, once Remus and Harry had taken their seats next to her. "She will get her comeuppance for Frank and Alice. And she can't kill Sirius."

"And can't torture Hermione and Neville," Harry added.

Amelia nodded in agreement, and groaned slightly.

"Are you alright, Aunt Amy?"

"I am. I just feel a bit sore. It's nothing that a nap, once I get home, won't cure."

"You are looking peaky, Amy."

She just rolled her eyes. "With you lot on my case, I am unlikely to ever be left alone if I so much as sniffle." She then rolled her neck and rubbed her head decidedly woodenly, causing Uncle and nephew to exchange worried glances.

The matter was put aside, though, when the prisoners were brought in. Bellatrix still looked insane and defiant, and in rage. Rudolphus and Rabastan were angry, fearful and resigned. The former Black spied the three people in audience and sneered.

"Any last words?" asked the executioner. He was the only one who could seal the prisoners into the Dementors' containments. The terrible things could very well go on feeding frenzies should it ever so happen that they were left free and given a taste of human soul. It had happened before.

"Yes!" screamed Bellatrix softly. How she managed it was a miracle. "Our Lord will return and reap revenge! On you, you blood-traitor bitch of my blood-traitor cousin, on you, beast, and on you, you son of a mudblood, shame to Potters! Then he will gut that mutt and tear apart all the mudbloods!"

The Dementors hadn't been brought in yet. For a person who reacted horribly in either his animal form or as a human, Harry had braved Azkaban better than could be expected. But Bellatrix was someone who was like a human Dementor herself. Everyone present hated the three brought out for execution, but there was quite a build-up of that hatred for the time traveller.

He smiled at her coldly. "Bella, Bella, Bella; your Lord's favourite badger cup is gone."

For a moment, the woman froze. "No!" she gasped, horror-struck. Then she started struggling in the grasps of her chains. "NO!" she yelled. "It cannot be! IT CANNOT BE!"

"Are you done?" asked the executioner. He had been brought three fairly sedate prisoners, and now one of them was actually acting like a prisoner on the death row.

"I am. I just have a question. Is it necessary that her execution has to be at the hands – well, mouth – of a Dementor?"

"The Wizengamot Witnesses have suggested alternative ways from time to time on humanitarian grounds," the executioner replied carefully.

If at all, Harry's smile turned into a manic grin that was a copy of Bella's before she was kicked in the gut with the news. He hurried over to the execution area, and stepped in front of Bellatrix. "Goodbye, Bella. I suppose the lower reaches of Avalon will be significantly warmer." He then did something totally out of character for an executioner. "Please cast a cleaning charm on my dear cousin," he requested the actual executioner. With that done, he kissed Bellatrix on her forehead. "Goodbye!"

"∫In the name of Slytherin, kill the traitress, as painfully as possible. This do I command you as the Lord Slytherin, in revenge.∫" The Dark Mark still had a snake, and it would react to such orders. Voldemort was not exactly imaginative or foresighted enough to believe that another could command in his stead. He smiled at the woman and kissed her forehead again, almost as if she were a beloved family member. Bellatrix felt the first pangs of terror. "Your Lord, Bella, has left ways for me to punish you."

He stepped back as the orders took effect. An intense pain, worse than Voldemort's Cruciatus coursed through her, lighting her nerve ends like a Christmas tree. It was so painful that Bellatrix screamed. Then the pain stopped, giving her some time to recover. Almost as soon as she had taken a few raggedy breaths, it was back. She screamed again.

Harry returned to his position by Remus and Amelia. "What did you do to her?"

"She loves Voldemort in some way. So I am taking it away from her, that love she has for him. She killed my godfather, the closest thing I would have had to an older sister after the war, Tonks, she almost killed the woman I loved and still do with her torture. This is my revenge." The dispassionate way he said it, while still smiling at the way Bellatrix screamed made his companions' eyes go wide. It went against what he had promised Sirius, but he could truthfully say that the Mark had killed her. Nobody else could understand Parseltongue anyway.

"Didn't you say you wouldn't kill a woman?" asked Amelia.

"I didn't. I just said I would like to carve her up or curse her, but wouldn't. I didn't do that as I said I wouldn't."

Bellatrix was unchained soon, and she crumpled to the floor. She screamed herself hoarse. She writhed on the ground. She twitched. She was beset by spasms. She bled. She bled through every orifice. She clawed at herself with her overgrown nails as she tore at her skin in pain. Her body weakened by the ravages of Azkaban, still did not yield to the pain, and she did not succumb to it easily. It took fifteen minutes for her to die. But how she died!

"Cub?" whispered Remus when he saw Harry still smiling at the spectacle. Black, he realised. The Cub was a Black, twice over.

"Her screams were truly delectable, weren't they? Rudolphus would have empathised with me. He was leering as she tortured my Hermione."

Bellatrix was still subjected to the Dementor's Kiss, once she stilled. Her soul had left as she died, but the bit of Voldemort was still there. It wouldn't relinquish its grasp on life so easily.

Rudolphus and Rabastan were soon subjected to the same dual treatment. They hoarsely begged to be killed before they died.

It was beyond horrible to look at. Humanitarian grounds indeed! The executioners were horrified. They had seen many deaths and had seen many people kissed by Dementors. But never had Death become a release for the prisoners. They looked at the last Potter with something akin to revulsion and fear.

"These photographs deserve to be in the newspapers, don't you think? Let them know what the Dark Mark did to them all," The Potter suggested. "And burn the bodies. We don't want ready-made inferi candidates for him, do we?"

He received no response even as he left. Amelia and Remus tottered unsteadily after him.

When the executor's assistants collected the bodies, they saw the snake had torn through their skin. Just under the Mark was a word: Rache.

* * *

As soon as Amelia came to the office used by the Ministry officials when they visited the prison, though, she fell violently ill.

"Aunt Amy!"

"Amy!"

Amelia paid no heed to the twain. It was quite some time before she was done. "I feel horrible," she gasped at last.

It was a horrible thing that the only way off the island was through the water. Amelia was looking greener and increasingly ill as the boat moved through the cold, choppy waters. It took over three hours for the boat to cross over towards the English mainland. As soon as they reached, Remus side-along apparated her to St. Mungo's and got the Healer on duty to check her. Harry sent a Patronus to Sirius to tell him about their whereabouts and apparated away as well.

* * *

Sirius was wearing a hole through the visitor's room carpet. Remus was reading. And Harry was sleeping. It was the status quo they were preserving for over thirty minutes.

"Lord Black, Regent Bones?" called the healer, Natalie Chapman.

Sirius rushed over to her. "Yes, Healer Chapman?"

"Please come over to my office."

Remus nudged his nephew awake as soon as Sirius went in.

Twenty minutes later, an overjoyed Amelia, and a scared, pale, shaking, overjoyed, ecstatic, euphoric Sirius emerged.

Remus sniffed slightly as he drew in a deep breath. This time he smelt what the putrid environment of Azkaban and the salty air over the North Sea had hidden. Digging into his pocket for a galleon, he offered it to his nephew. "I bet you a galleon that he asks me to be the Best Man and you to be the ring bearer."

Fortunately, Harry caught on. "No bet. You think I'd bet against you, Moony, a Marauder? And am I not about eight or so years too old to be a ring bearer?"

Sirius came over and sat down shakily next to Remus. Amelia sat down beside her fiancé. Sirius was taking deep breaths, while Amelia was having a hard time _not_ squealing out in joy.

"Moony, will you be the Best Man? Harry can be the ring bearer."

Amelia looked miffed. "Sirius!" she scolded. "You have to propose to me properly, apart from the contracts, first!"

As one the two burst out laughing.

* * *

The dreary atmosphere within the Marauders' Place had turned into since New Year's Eve was now gone. It was replaced by a very joyful, celebratory one.

Sirius was once again drinking. In keeping with his new responsibilities, though, he had cut down to half a glass, and had sipped it over a long time. This had been one hell of a week for the Marauder. First he had finally decided to face his past, and ended up meeting Marlene (which was still a problem; he hadn't gotten around to telling anyone else about her. Jean had understood and hadn't spoken a word), in the process. Then he had been scared out of his wits for the Pup the very next day. Now he was going to be a father. He was going to be a Dad! He chuckled drily to himself. At least he had scored better than James on that account. Prongs had fainted of course.

The truth was that this was a very different feeling. He had felt something when James had placed that wiggling puddle of flesh in his hands all those years ago. It was a mix of emotions. Awe at James for creating said puddle of flesh, and at the puddle for coming into existence and making everyone around it happy. Pride that he was the one entrusted with the Pup's upbringing as his surrogate father. And envy, because he hadn't experienced what James was and couldn't believe how much it had changed his best friend.

He had feared he would never experience it. Twelve long years of grief and guilt made him almost accept that he would never be allowed to be happy, subconsciously. He feared about his ability as well. But the mundane doctors and magical healers had assured him that his fears were false. The matter had fallen aside thereafter, but Sirius always had it at the back of his mind. He wanted to feel what James had felt. He wanted it for himself.

Now that he had it, he couldn't help but snort at the similarities and dissimilarities of their situations. Voldemort was still around; still alive. But instead of them being hunted, it was them hunting him down. James, he realised, had brought his son into a war-torn world. Perhaps it was fear, perhaps it was their youth. Perhaps it was the Prophecy. The fact, though, was that James and Lily had brought a life into a world where every day was lived in fear.

He wouldn't. He just wouldn't bring his child into a world still trembling with the fear that Voldemort could rise. He had a family now, and it was growing. He was to have his own child. He would take up the cudgels against anyone out to hurt his loved ones.

The thought spurred him. He had to get the Pup onto the game now. There would be no dilly-dallying. Cassiopeia, whom Harry considered the Power Voldemort knew not, had asked the Pup to open the box they had received. It would help them bring down Voldemort for good.

It had to be done now.

* * *

Three days before they were to leave for Hogwarts, and the day before Remus and Minerva were to leave, on the 6th, the Marauders finally got around to tackling the box.

Sirius, Remus and Harry were sitting in the special 'Moony' room in the basement of The Marauders' Place, tense, alert and wands at the ready, around the box that had once been housed within the very house which The Marauders' Place had replaced. They weren't expecting anything untoward – after all, it was what James and Lily had left for them personally, specifically for their son. And therein lay the reason for their trepidation. _James_ had had a hand in this bequest. The odds were so very much in favour of there being at least one prank for them as Prongs' last gift, that it really wasn't funny in the slightest.

Remus and Sirius had heaved relieved sighs the moment they had learnt that it would be Harry who had to open it. They would give their very lives for the cub – as Sirius had in the timeline past, and as Remus had done, fighting for what he believed in alongside Harry. It was their promise to Prongs. This assurance, however, did not cover pranks – and most certainly not those that James would pull.

"Go on then, you, open it," Sirius prompted his pup, yet again. Harry had apologised to him, as Cassiopeia had explained. It had patched them back instantly, and they had gone back to being Sirius and Harry as usual and back to annoying each other as much as they could, just because they could. Sirius gingerly poked the box once more with his wand as he had taken to doing. He treated it as people would treat a live bomb.

"I am, Padfoot! Hold your horses, damn it! I am leery about it enough as it is!" Harry was unsure what to expect, and Sirius wasn't helping matters. The pestering was only barely acceptable the first fifty times. Thereafter, Amelia had yelled at the old dog and scolded him for behaving like a kid. He was about to have one in less than a year's time, after all.

"Honestly, Sirius," Remus chided. "It is James who helped Lily store and probably enchant that. It can't possibly be anything bad."

"The fact that James helped enchant it is what worries me," Sirius grumbled. It didn't actually. James would never have put in a prank in such a situation.

A moment passed as each of the three took the statement for the truth that it was, before Harry squared his shoulders and took a deep breath, softly muttering, "The game's afoot! Respect the prankster, and upon these words open! Cry – Merlin for Harry, Moony and the dog!"

Sirius, very maturely, gave a small "woof" and snickered. It broke the unnecessary tension and lightened the mood.

Sometimes, people expect something and the outcome is wildly different. It is so different that one can get disoriented, discombobulated and all the other synonyms. This was one of those situations. Their expectations and what they ended up facing were as close as any two opposing ends of the universe.

"I solemnly swear I am up to no good," Harry mumbled, with a little squeak, making him sound like a scared seen-year-old, as he pressed his thumb into the blood lock. Damn puberty!

" _I certainly hope not_." It was a bossy, no-nonsense statement made by a feminine voice that had Remus and Sirius jumping and pointing their wands at the box, and Harry temporarily losing his senses. " _Just because your father's friends may have corrupted you, doesn't mean you have to forget my contribution in bringing you to this world._ "


	46. Chapter 46

**In the Shadow of Light**

A very immature instance is used. That reference comes from **Cloneserpent's** ' **Harry Potter and the Sword of Gryffindor** '. That one, ' **Survivor** ' by **atruwriter** , and ' **The Strange Disappearance of Sally-Anne Perks** ' by **Paimpont** are three excellent stories on really diverse arcs that I enjoyed immensely.

* * *

 _"_ I certainly hope not _." It was a bossy, no-nonsense statement made by a feminine voice that had Remus and Sirius jumping and pointing their wands at the box, and Harry temporarily losing his senses. "_ Just because your father's friends may have corrupted you, doesn't mean you have to forget my contribution in bringing you to this world _."_

* * *

The box's lid flung itself open off its own accord. Inside were two electric blue glass orbs, which seemed more like very large marbles. They seemed to pulsate slightly.

The elder Marauders reflexively grabbed the cub and pulled him away from the box. This was not magic they had encountered before. Sirius knew the magic related to communicative memories or magical paintings. This was similar, yet there was a world of a difference. For one, it wouldn't have been able to recognise a voice. The password would have been a trigger, probably, but whatever the box contained couldn't have, _shouldn't_ have known who had spoken them.

" _Calm it Moony_ ," Remus heard yet another voice he had last heard more than twelve years before. He noticed that Sirius was standing stock still. Obviously he had heard something similar too. He glanced at the Prongslet, however, and he was in shock as he muttered, only barely audibly, "Mum?"

They turned to the orbs once more. It was obvious that the words were not being spoken aloud, for each of them was hearing different things.

"What is this magic?" Sirius asked. He was the first to regain his senses for the moment. "This isn't in anyway like the magical portraits, is it? Are these memories? It is the closest I can think of, but this is not that!" It was a fair assumption.

" _No. While I can understand why you think of this that way, it is not. Sirius, I have something of really great importance to tell you. Even more important compared to what these orbs are – well, probably not. It ties into what we want to tell you._ " It had to be. The Marauders never called each other by their real names unless the matter was really serious. " _I hope that at the very least Harry is with you. It would be all the better, if Remus is with you as well. You three are the only ones we would trust with this."_

"Yes?" asked Sirius shakily.

" _It is about the Dark Mark. We were performing some...ah...experiments on Death Eaters, you could say. We found something truly heinous and disgusting about it._ "

"What do you know? And how do you know?" the grim animagus demanded.

" _We assume that you have at least some rudimentary knowledge regarding the dark mark. Tell us what you know and we shall explain it further,_ " the two voices intoned in unison.

Remus stopped Harry and Sirius from communicating any further. "First of all, I want to know what the whole matter is. What are these orbs? What magic are you using? Are you James and Lily, really? How are you communicating with us, directly with our minds, in fact? How are we sometimes getting different things communicated to each of us at the same time?"

" _Good old Moony_ ," James voice seemed to say gleefully. " _As always you are the voice of caution, just as was expected from you_."

Remus and Sirius both flushed as they were told something of great joke-worthiness if spread to others. They had to accept that nobody but those two would have – could have – known, truly.

"That's him alright. Nobody else that I know could be such an annoying dick," Sirius mumbled.

"Except for you, of course," Remus quipped.

"Of course," Sirius grumbled without the tiniest bit of rancour.

There was a feeling of elation among the three. James and Lily may not have had a physical form but they were truly there with them. And it wasn't just in the euphemistic way. The very consciousnesses or at the very least, the trapped ghosts of Harry's dad and mum were with them. For some this might have been cause for celebration. The son of the 'people' (for brevity's sake) in question though, was erring on the side of caution. This was way too easy. He had had many false dawns as far as family was concerned the last time around, and now he wasn't for letting either Sirius or Remus get hurt in any way.

"Wait!" The two men looked at Harry who had spoken in a high-pitched warble. Nothing had prepared him for anything like this, and he was having a hard time controlling himself. "We don't know whether it's really them. Voldemort could have created those and left them for you to find!"

"Using your blood? Bollocks!"

" _Mind your language around my son, Sirius Black!"_ Lily scolded, the scolding being transmitted to all three living people – though why she wasn't upset by Harry's caution was unknown _._

Sirius ignored her as he continued. "Why would he? The only time he got close enough to touch you was that night. Blood locks have to be keyed to the blood of the opener. Voldemort had to have been sure that he would kill you. Blood locks don't open with a dead person's blood."

" _Your caution is understandable, Prongslet, but really, it's me...er...us._ "

"Prove it," he _ordered_ defiantly, and it sounded more like a tantrum.

" _How should we?_ "

"I will call Beat. He might be able to recognise whether or not you really are who you say you are! At the very least he will know whether whatever magic is being used is native to our House!"

" _An excellent solution, Prongslet!_ " exclaimed James. " _Call that wonderful elf. At least Padfoot has taken you to our ancestral Place. Bloody hell, I should have thought of it! He knew!"_

" _James! Language!_ " scolded Lily, reflexively. " _Harry-love, please do not ever repeat what Daddy said, okay?"_

This only received snorts in response.

Beat duly came when called. 'James' evidently spoke to the little wizened house elf in whatever way the spheres were communicating, for Beat stopped dead one moment and then the next, squeaked, "Master James, Mistress Lily! You'se there!"

"Are you sure Beat?" Harry asked. This was too good to be true, though something that Cassiopeia had said, " _...all the_ **souls** _in your family..."_ while he was in her realm came to mind and he felt a smidgen of hope.

"Beat is sure Master Harry! Mistress Lily be giving Beat the codeword that Beat had hidden from bad mind magic by elf magic!"

The elf then listened attentively to something that was being said, before replying, "Yes Mistress Lily. Beat and the rest of the elves are being destroying your bodies by fire."

"But your graves..." Sirius protested. He was the only one even partly able to speak. Remus was openly crying. Harry was stunned – or rather, shocked beyond the ability to think – as well. His parents hadn't left him. He had lived with them for years and years, but hadn't known. They had reached out beyond death...

" _We may have participated in some truly idiotic pranks, Padfoot, but we weren't truly idiots, you know. If we died, we were to be cremated. For one we both followed the old religion, though Lils still attended Church. We had to hide our beliefs though. Beat was tasked with it. I am not sure why you two weren't there, but them's the breaks._ "

Sirius, Remus and Harry simultaneously mumbled, "Oh!"

James continued, " _And his Mouldy-shorty-ness was making inferi, you know, don't you? We even had back-up plans if all three of us had died._ "

The three men were stunned. "You had a back-up?" Sirius asked James.

" _Of course we did. Either you or Frank would be the next Lord Potter with all that it would entail had all of us died. While we didn't distrust the rat, we all know that if Voldemort had various methods of torture that could have hoodwinked Peter into divulging the secret, even if he wasn't a traitor. And let's face it – it would have been true for anyone."_ As much as it pained Sirius to accept it, it was the truth.

 _"_ _Frank was a Potter cousin that we knew of,"_ prompted Lily, to continue the story before James took over again.

 _"_ _Dad and Mum had adopted you by blood. You do remember that, don't you? You had to be there, you know,"_ the ball-bound man reminded with a snicker _. "Both of you were eligible, technically. We had made provisions to ensure that if we died, a document would be unsealed at Gringotts as well as a legal document with Maxwell Douglas, our legal representative. The one that the ring would choose was to avenge us. We had written down the message regarding the Horcruxes for you. Just because we had created misdirection, it did not mean that we would leave you in the lurch if the worst had happened._ "

Sirius gulped. They had taken steps to ensure his safety. They hadn't left him to fend for himself. They had done what was the best they could in the situation. He broke down as well. It had actually been a long time coming. There was little they could do about the fact that Douglas had died that very night of natural causes, and therefore the contingency plans wouldn't have kicked in anyway.

" _Why are you crying Siri?_ " Lily was apparently baffled.

It was quite some time before Sirius could speak well enough to answer through his sobs. "I – I g-got y-you to-o ch-change to the rat," he fairly bawled. "I as good as killed you! I – I – I am so so-sorry!"

" _Get a grip, Sirius,_ " James and Lily scolded sternly, and in unison. " _If you need it, then let's have it in the open. We forgive you. You heard that? WE. FORGIVE. YOU. For whatever reason you feel it is necessary, we forgive you. It was our mistake as well. We could have forced Peter to give us an Unbreakable Vow. We dropped the ball on that one. We didn't want to believe that anyone of the Marauders could betray us. So just calm down now, you dog. You have done what we required you to do, though you were a bit late opening the trunk, given Prongslet's voice and enunciation. Thought I had hexed it or something, didn't you?_ "

This caused Sirius to break into renewed sobs. He had had less than a week since opening up to a woman who he had long believed to be dead, and to try and truly come to terms with the deaths of James and Lily and treating it as the very real problem which cast its pall over everything he did, when this new surprise sprung at him. With Marlene, there was latent rage for what he saw as abandonment and betrayal. With James and Lily, it was all the pent-up grief. He also really wasn't sure he could handle anyone else come back to life or anything approaching that in anyway, however much he would rather have James, Lily, and Uncle Charlus and Aunt Dorea alive and talking to him in person. Then again, had they been alive, all these problems would've never been around. If anyone had tried to lock him up for something he hadn't done, they would have destroyed the damn Ministry to get him back. They were hi family.

Remus could only grip the man's shoulder as he sobbed away much of his self-recrimination and cried in relief and grief, all of which was now tinged with bewildered elation about the fact that their lost friends weren't as truly lost as they believed. His grip was too hard, and yet Sirius couldn't complain.

All this while, Harry had been silent because he had been unable to speak. Here was his entire family. Here were his mum and dad, reaching beyond the Veil to be with him. He just had one question he needed answered, for he wanted to ensure that this was not a cruel prank. "Mum, Dad; please tell me this. These balls aren't destructible, are they?"

" _Did you get tired of us already, Prongslet?_ " James asked in mock-sorrow. " _Seriously though, these are like any other quasi-solid constructs. A well-aimed 'Reducto' would, in theory, destroy them and release us into the afterlife, as would fire, I think. But Lily has a theory that if you, through whom both our blood flows, are used in a blood ritual of any sort which is not in any way voluntary, it would make us relinquish our link to this plane, because we had anchored it to the blood of the House of Potter or the next closest living relative. So had you died as well, the anchor would have been Frank or Sirius – the two closest."_

That explained it. Obviously the house had been destroyed in the previous timeline. The vile woman, Petunia, couldn't even have the decency to give it to Harry when he left them for the final time. Or perhaps, she had destroyed the box before, vexed at being unable to open it?

Or not. Hadn't he seen his parents' forms during the Priori Incantatem effect, just after he had been used in a ritual he hadn't volunteered for, involving his blood?

Who knew? All that mattered was that he was lucky and he got his parents back in a way.

"I missed you mum, dad," he gasped out at long last, as he tried to somehow let go of the storm of emotions that was piling up. Unfortunately, the easiest way out was out of question as the Dursleys had beaten the function of the tear glands out of him. So he just kept gulping in air. Lots of it.

And suddenly Moony and Padfoot were both there, clutching onto him and rubbing his back. He was supposed to be eighteen or thirteen. He was supposed to be more a man than a boy. Vernon had ensured that he would lose his ability to express sadness in the form of tears or anything of that sort. But it all was meaningless in the face of this.

"It's okay Prongslet. Let it out...let it out little Prongs," Moony said soothingly. It was still difficult. His eyes were stinging as was his throat. But it was just...difficult.

" _Harry? It is mummy..._ "

And then the trickle started one tear at a time. Harry brushed it away angrily, but that wasn't effective. It was a while before he could speak.

"I missed you both so m-much," he sniffed. The family of five, for that was what they were, spent the next fifteen minutes communicating through those odd balls. There was so much to say and so much that they wanted to say and yet couldn't, though they needed to, all because they didn't know how.

At last James spoke, and the way he spoke it made all three men think of him shifting uneasily. " _I think we have had enough of this emotional bonding stuff,_ " he said a bit timidly.

" _Honestly James! We are meeting our baby and those two reprobates that raised him. There's no such thing as too much emotion._ "

With an obvious note of plea and apologetic submission, James backed down, saying, " _Right you are Lily-flower! I am just a bloke though. This is a bit..._ "

" _...is too emotional for you to feel comfortable? Is it that the big, bad Mr. Prongs is becoming a cry-baby? Enough to have some dust irritate your eyes?_ " Lily shot back.

" _Eh...heh...heh..._ " was the very eloquent reply.

It soon had the mood lightening a little, which was (probably) exactly what James wanted.

" _So, what's going on, Prongslet? How old are you? Are you old enough to be in Gryffindor? Pulled enough pranks to drive Padfoot and Moony batty? Driven Aunt Min mad? And before Lils asks, made friends? Doing well at school?_ "

There was a rather protracted silence.

" _What? Why are you three silent?_ " Lily really did have the same questions to ask.

This was an unexpected wrinkle on the reunion. There was really no 'easy' way to break it to them. Sirius was too far gone to be of any use in that situation, and Harry wasn't sure he could be delicate enough, never mind the fact that it was going to be next to impossible for him to describe the trip through time. So as one, the dog and the pup turned to the wolf. Remus grimaced a bit.

"Well, it is quite a story, Prongs, Lily. Are you sure that you want to hear it?"

" _We have been waiting for what seems to be at least a decade to talk to Harry and you two; to know what's going on. And seeing as we can't do anything, being living impaired as we are, I cannot think of anything better to do, and I suppose neither can James._ "

"Ah well, I suppose then, in that case, I should start with the fact that from nearly two years till your deaths and Voldemort's temporary disembodiment, Albus Dumbledore was under the cursed control of one Tom Riddle, aka Lord Voldemort."

" _Figures,_ " James said blandly _._ " _I had suspicions. One week I saw Albus give us orders to use force if necessary to preserve the Order's lives and ranks. The next he was spouting off the virtues of redemption. Lily had stolen a drop of his blood and we had had the goblins run a blood identity test to ensure it wasn't an imposter._ "

" _That's right. We had even contracted them to find the counter-curse. It was to activate from the time that Albus would step into Gringotts with us. Unfortunately, we could never lure him in. James and I even tried to call him into Gringotts discreetly. He always had something different lined up,_ " Lily explained.

"But they never told me!" Harry protested.

" _Why would they? It was a stipulation that enacted the highest possible secrecy._ "

"They should have told me because I am a member of the Nation!"

" _What is this?_ " Lily asked archly – or so they assumed anyway.

"Prongslet has had a rather...uh...um...adventurous life yet, Lily," Remus temporised.

" _Moony, please cut to the chase. Your attempts at diplomacy are making matters more difficult for you as well._ "

"Alright then; Sirius, Harry, I only ask that you should not interrupt. And Harry, I am going to tell them about your greatest adventure, and about your relatives."

Harry just shrugged and nodded – better Moony than him. He was likely to release his inner stupid.

And so Remus launched into a forty five minute recounting of their lives till before the temporal displacement. By the end, James and Lily were seething. Seeing as there was nothing to be gained by painting any of their allies in a bad light, Remus glossed over the roles of all the adults who were in power and weren't controlled, who were allied to their cause or work, and whose failure contributed to the spectacular fiasco that constituted the years from Halloween 1981 to June 1993.

" _Let me get this straight_ ," James growled, " _Dumbledore was turned into Voldemort's pawn, Sirius was cursed into losing his head, Minerva placed her loyalty in a compromised man above her family, you stuck your head in the bottle when you should have been demanding justice for Sirius and Harry's custody thereafter, and when you resurfaced to accomplish that six years later, you were thrown out on your ear because of your furry problem._ "

This had surprised Harry, for all that Remus had told him 'before' was that he had nearly drunk his life away prior to 1993, and he held several misgivings against the man for that. One could always trust Remus to always paint himself in the worst possible light; stupid werewolf. All the same, something had prompted Remus to give some explanation to James about his whereabouts.

" _To add to that, Alice and Frank are less alive than we are, Celeste is dead and Amelia was shackled up in bureaucratic red tapes. As a result all of the people we tasked with keeping our son safe, namely Albus, Minerva, Sirius, Alice and Frank, and Augusta, Celeste and Amelia were unable or unwilling to care for him..._ "

"You would have allowed Albus to have custody of Harry?"

" _He is Harry's first cousin four or five times removed, Sirius. He was the closest of our living magical relative on Lily's side – people we were close to, I mean. The rest are all on mine. That reminds me – Lily had a letter for him placed in his vault. I suppose he might have only had his elf perform the transactions for him, so if he hasn't got it or read it, just ensure he does, yeah?_ "

"Oh. Alright."

" _Oh? Alright?_ " snarled Lily. " _The whole lot of you involved yourself in stupidity of the highest order for twelve long years! All this while, my son is horribly, brutally abused by the fat son of a bitch of a brother-in-law and his cruel bitch of a wife, who is my sister."_

James interrupted here. " _What's been done about them?_ "

"I sent the Garnarukran after them. They too it as an assault on a member of the Nation by a human," Harry answered brightly. "They hve promised to not hurt them physically."

" _And?_ "

"What else was necessary? The People have ensured that they're pariahs because they can't live according to their own sense of expectation and entitlement, making them lash out at everything and everyone."

" _And they have had no punishment for the abuse?_ "

"It was not useful. There would have been an investigation, and they would have blabbered about freaks. They would be put into sanitoriums. Those institutions do not deserve such trouble."

" _How long has Sirius been around Harry? You just spoke quite like he used to_ ," James reminisced in a pained voice.

"I have been around long enough to hunt them down and make them suffer in a way that would not draw attention," Sirius answered viciously and gleefully. He saw Harry and Remus staring at him incredulously. "What? I just left them a Christmas present! That boy is a teenager. All teenagers think that their parents know nothing and are perpetually wrong. I hexed him to think that for all his life. Then just because it would be incredibly unfair to do so to him, I hexed the couple as well. Now they each think everyone and everything around them is wrong. I can't hurt them in any other way. But they starved the pup emotionally as well. This works for me."

" _That works for me as well,"_ agreed James. " _I am glad you are the Prongslet's dogfather. Continue your rant, flower,"_ he said as courteously as he could.

It worked for Lily as well, apparently, for she just huffed in agreement and continued, " _Yeah, so where was I? Ah. Voldemort ever so conveniently resurfaces in my son's first year and attempts to kill him three times during this first year, during which he also battles a mountain troll. The next year my son battles a Horcrux and a basilisk which nearly kills him, before finding out through some way – which I noticed that you have skirted around – that his_ **untreated curse** _scar is a receptacle of a passive possession and he rids himself of it with an unconventional, if effective method_. _During this time, he also shares a dorm with_ **the rat** ," Lily completed. " _And all that time, poor Sirius languishes in Azkaban?_ " Her 'voice' was becoming harder and harder with each word, causing the older Marauders to wince and flinch.

Remus cleared his throat, before answering, "Yes. Yes, that would be a most accurate summary." Disembodied she might be, but only a fool didn't fear Lily Evans-Potter when he was angry.

" _Give us one good reason why we should not forsake our ritually bound promise to the Goddess and instead embrace true darkness and create an alternate body for ourselves and curse every single one of you to within an inch of your lives,_ " Lily demanded.

"While we would really like you back among the living-unimpaired, you are reacting based on only half of an extremely fantastic story."

" _Please divulge it by all means, Remus. Our patience is really wearing thin._ "

Remus stifled a snort as he wondered what Prong could do as a little blue ball. Then he realised that the bloke must have suffered from the ultimate case of blue balls after spending so many years in a case – as a blue ball. He really had to stifle his mirth at that. Merlin! James wasn't back in contact for more than thirty minutes and he was already thinking up immature references.

"Let him speak, mum," Harry answered. It was again Remus who launched into a tale that was a tragedy wrapped in manipulations and foolishness for the better part of the next hour.

" _You honestly expect us to believe that Har-bear? I am not saying that you haven't seen this, but maybe it was a dream?_ " James temporised.

Sirius snorted. "Well, if dreams lead to Harry wiping the greasy stain that was Snivellus Snape in a duel and thereby freeing Dumbledore partially, killing all Malfoys legally, destroying the entire legion of free Death Eaters, becoming a millionaire off his own exploits, becoming a multi-animagus and teaching others the trick, casting a herd of corporeal Patroni at the age of thirteen in any timeline and breaking me out of Azkaban, becoming a member of the Nation and finding five Horcruxes, I'd say I'd take such a dream anytime."

" _There is a limit to which one can build tall tales, Sirius,"_ Lily partly scolded and partially scoffed.

"He isn't lying, Lils."

" _Not you as well Remus,_ " groaned the former Lady-elect of House Potter.

"As fantastic as it is to hear, and I admit – even to tell it – it is nonetheless true, Prongs; Flower."

" _Explain, Sirius_ ," James commanded. So Sirius did.

" _You know, I had imagined often what sort of a reunion this would be. It pales as compared to the reality,_ " the man in the ball said. " _Damn you Harry. As much as I want to scold you for being utterly foolish, I am sure Padfoot has already done that. But you just had to do it, didn't you? You just had to become the better prankster!_ " James' voice took on a slight hitch. " _I am so proud of you!_ "

With Lily's next statement, the living Marauders were sure that she would have rolled her eyes if she had them. " _What James means to say is that we are currently overwhelmed by what you have told us. Expect an appropriately loud, vicious and stinging berating and criticism when we have worked this over, though I suppose we can't over-think it._ "

"Uh...okay?" was the unified, eloquent response.

" _That said though, I am simultaneously very angry about the fact that you have_ **had** _to eliminate certain people, and very glad and proud that you did. Well, considering that Snivellus was on my hit-list since he decided to become a Death Nibbler because "I whored out for Potter", you did my job for me. Little greasy-haired shit was a fantastic actor; made me think he was my friend for the longest time, he did. He even was, once. He forgot one thing though. I especially hate people who whored themselves out to Voldemort."_ Her voice went pensive as she went on a tangent. " _I am rather surprised by his ambition. Giving the Sword of Gryffindor which was impregnated with the basilisk's venom was a massive double-edged risk. You all could have died, or as you did, eliminated a few Horcruxes. He could have become a power by eliminating the rest over the next years, or manipulating Voldemort after he was more than half-dead._ " Her voice gained a level of pride and unhappiness as she spoke to Harry again, " _Killing a few and then getting the Ministry to cull the whole herd – that's another level altogether. I am proud. I am very, very proud. But I still wish you were allowed to be just a kid._ "

"Don't we all?" Remus muttered.

" _So,_ " James seamlessly continued, " _we are going to help you get through this Voldemort problem first, because at the moment we are frankly still more than astounded. We need time to assimilate this. That doesn't mean that we aren't angry, just that anger is not going to solve the immediate problem. We need to prioritise. That's one good thing about these things we are in – no unnecessary chemical complications due to the brain over-thinking matters. Now, Moony, Amelia, and Sirius were each given two lines of a password rhyme. Since it has been several years – rather eventful years at that – we are not going to expect that they still remember it. What you need to do at the moment is take us to the Manor to the locked Room and utter the words. We had everything set up for the ritual, which was where a Death Eater came into the picture as a necessity._ "

"A Death Eater?" asked Sirius dumbfounded.

" _Yes, Sirius, a Death Eater_ " Lily chid. " _You know, those masked idiots running around murdering people?_ "

"I know what a Death Eater is. What did you _need_ a Death Eater for?" Sirius demanded.

" _It is a long story_ ," James replied.

"I think we have answered your questions, Prongs. We would like some answers to, I think. Care to explain what all this is, and how you are communicating with us?"

" _Yes. This is an ancient type of magic. You remember I had told you that the Potters were darker than the Blacks could ever even hope to be, Padfoot?_ "

"I do. Just talk to us all, if you can. Every so often, you are slipping up and talking to only the one you're addressing. But first tell us how you are talking to us," Sirius stuttered out. His thoughts were jumbled and a mess, but damn he was happy!

" _Oh right!"_ He repeated what he said so that all three could hear him. _"I knew I was forgetting something. Lily-flower, would you explain?_ "

" _Well considering that the communication part was my work, I should,_ " Lily's light voice retorted. Harry, the boy whose only memory of that voice was it pleading with a monster to stay away from her child, felt that the voice was beautiful. " _Once we caught Myrridin Carrow for an experiment – and wasn't that a most improper name for an inbred cretin? – I started researching necromancy_."

"WHAT?"

" _Honestly, Sirius! Didn't James tell you that the Potter family was Dark? Now shut your gob and LISTEN!_ "

Sirius subsided like a dog swatted on his nose with a rolled newspaper.

" _To cut a long story short, James went through the family Grimoire to retrieve – not find, retrieve – the ritual that would combine_ **every** _piece of that bastard's soul. However, we were also trying to study it. In the meantime, we, that is to say, chiefly Lily, learnt a lot about the nature of souls, soul magic, ghosts and spiritual manifestations, and phantoms and so on. This is the invention which is a result of the work we both put in. We call it a soulball._ "

"How very imaginative," Moony quipped. The idea that Prongs and Lily had dabbled in soul magic wasn't repulsive at all when held in contrast to the idea that they were there with them all, back in some form.

" _Well, considering these are our souls, it is apt,_ " Prongs retorted.

"Souls?" repeated Remus, thunderstruck. And now a lot of things were clearer and murkier. These balls were really them. They were the consciousness and souls of James and Lily. The couple were alive in every way bar having a body. It caused even more elation.

" _Yes, souls_. _In theory, ghosts are imprints of dead souls, but they are capable of independent thought and communication, even though they have no physical body to source the vibrations from. So the question is: how do they do that? That was one part. We then stumbled upon a document that spoke of protective haunting. In ancient times, wizards fought alongside muggles. When they died, they fortified their strongholds with their magic and souls because the two are linked inextricably. Padfoot and Harry are the two people who can actually access the Grimoire but you can't Moony, because you weren't declared a son of the House. So I am telling this secret for your benefit. Marauder's Honour!_ "

"Marauder's Honour!" intoned Remus solemnly.

" _A Lord Potter about ten generations back or so – I am not sure – was an Unspeakable. He created a Horcrux out of curiosity._ "

"Oh dear Lord!" swore Remus. "That explains why neither you nor Padfoot had real problems cavorting around with a Dark creature like me. Your definitions were really fluid."

" _Hex Remus for me please, Sirius. He is still moping about being a Dark Creature,_ " Lily ordered.

"Your wish is my command, my Lady," Sirius replied with genuine joy at hearing that voice, and with playfulness, though nobody was really fooled as his voice still bore evidence of his earlier cry.

" _Stop flirting with my wife, mutt,_ " James grumbled. " _So well, anyway; he researched it all. But his successor was ashamed, and correctly so. All that the Unspeakables know about Horcruxes is documented by Hadrian Potter the second. He was the one who created_ **and** _learnt to successfully re-imbibe the soul piece._ "

"Damn you James! You named the pup after him?"

" _Peace, brother. The Unspeakables only know the sordid parts. Hadrian Potter II also documented sacrificial light soul magics, the sort of which we told you about._ "

" _So essentially, we used the perverted Horcrux ritual that he had unearthed,_ " explained Lily as she took over _. "Usually the soul and magic of the dead magical is directly tied to the House. However, there was a probability that he could go to Alice and Frank instead of you. So we had to make an intermediate token to hold us. So I researched how to create ectoplasm and how to harden it. The Department of Mysteries does have these weird creatures that are ectoplasmic in their existence which I used. Celeste had the most wonderful names for them: Wrackspurts, Nargles, Blibbering Humdingers and what not, so as to enable us to talk about them outside the labs."_ Harry decided then and there that he was going to encourage Luna to become a DoM magizoological-researcher. _"These balls are just that. I am not sure, but I believe they will be cold to touch. The ectoplasm is generated from our own bodies._ "

"So you are saying that except for your bodies, this is all of you, and yet this is 'light' though you have cheated death?" Sirius asked in clarification.

" _Yes. We first had to perform a rite of penance to appease the concept of death and a token for the mother goddess – the giver of life, for by anchoring our souls to this plane, we interfered with their work and their jurisdiction, so to speak. Life and Death are what would be duals of the other – there can't exist one without the other. That is why, in a way, this is considered light. We are whole and we '_ asked permission _',_ " they heard the quotation marks in Lily's voice, " _while the Horcrux tears asunder that which should never be anything less than whole. It corrupts that which the pantheon bestowed. We cannot be re-embodied unless we possess a soulless husk, or an unborn child. Voldemort can."_

" _As for how we are communicating with you, let us say that soul magic has delved into the why's and how's of ghosts and the like as well_ ," James continued

"What do you mean?"

" _Remember what we said about ghosts and their ability to speak in spite of their lack of physical presence. Poltergeists go so far as to affect the living world physically. How do they do that? The reason is simple. Magic comes from nature, or so the belief goes. When a person dies, it returns to its source. Ghosts are magic. Poltergeists are quantifiably more magic. And so are we._ "

"Then why aren't we hearing your voice out loud?"

" _I can honestly say that I don't know. What I can honestly also say, however, is that it is that very thing which the Unspeakables are researching with the brains. Though we say that the brain's function is to think, what we do not know is where the thoughts originate from. How are memories, knowledge and responses to stimuli assimilated towards a thought? I don't know. As I told you, the brain often seems to be an impediment as it causes what Lily says are chemical reactions and brings in emotional matters. Normally, we would have been crying or shouting or whatever. Don't you think we are rushing through our reunion rather calmly, in spite of us getting angry on Harry's behalf?"_

There was that, the living Marauders realised. "Why are we calmer then?"

" _Reaction time, Sirius, is a curious thing. If we don't let you stay onto any subject for long, when you are already not in control as your entire attention is focussed on us, you can't think over and react to something to the death, can you?_ "

"Oh." The sort of thinking the dead duo had engaged in had once again reduced Sirius to monosyllabic responses.

"What do you want us to do?" Remus asked at long-last. "Can you and do you want to possess any desouled Death Eater or something?"

" _Of course not!_ " snapped Lily. _"We don't want to be resurrected that way. Now however, if you, Harry, were to take these balls to Potter Manor, and declare that you allow access to Lily and James Potter, we would integrate into the magic of the home and manifest as slightly more than poltergeists_."

"We will take you there on Saturday, if you like. Moony and I are to go back to Hogwarts tomorrow."

" _That's alright. We can spend the time till then catching up with the dog,"_ James replied lightly.

They all snickered at a heavily offended Sirius, who sought to divert the attention to serious subjects to stop being the butt of the joke. "So, what do we do with Voldemort?" he asked in as dignified a manner as he could muster in his indignation.

That caused the mirth to subside rather quickly. In a business-like voice, Lily answered, " _After experimenting on Carrow, we realised as we said, that the Dark Mark was yet another Horcrux. Now Hadrian Potter II needed to put his soul back together – he was only curious, not on a quest to attain immortality. So he devised another ritual, or rather his son, Andrew, did. That idiotic man used the bloody cloak as a Horcrux._ " None of the three living men could stop their cries of disgust at that. " _It was necessary to preserve that Potter heirloom without letting it lose its magic. The ritual did just that. So long as at least one of the pieces and the original soul are available, the calculations say, the ritual can be used to bind the soul back together._ "

"You said that before. And you need a Death Eater because?"

" _There has to be a magical body to tie the soul to. A desouled Death Eater will work excellently because the Dark Mark is already a Horcrux._ "

"That's a wonderful idea, Lils. It will preserve the Diadem of Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff's cup, Gryffindor and Slytherin's Staves and the other bits. There's just one problem, though. When a Death Eater is desouled, the Dark Mark is sucked out as well."

" _So? Just make that body wear the Diadem! There will be no resistance to the possession. The desouled body will be an excellent conductor, yeah?"_

Sirius looked perplexed for a moment then just nodded.

"Dolohov," Harry blurted after a bout of silence. "I wanted to be the one to kill him anyway. Now, revenge will be sweeter."

" _You don't seem to be too bothered by that, Harry_ ," James pointed out.

"Sirius told me about Blake Rosier, dad. Same reason for me," Harry replied with ferocious glee.

" _I understand. Just don't get carried away._ "

"Yes dad."

Deciding that for the moment, when there wasn't any killing imminent, the conversation was getting a bit too intense, James asked, " _So, when do I get to meet this girl who was, and you hope will be, your Lily?_ "

"That's the point, dad. She isn't my Lily. I am thoroughly sure she is Hermione Granger the first and only and the best Hermione Granger ever. Mum must be great, but to me she'll always be mum. So she is naturally the greatest. In that timeline, for me, in life, Hermione was the greatest."

" _Oh my baby is smitten!_ " squealed Lily.

"I haven't asked her out yet, though," Harry added.

" _Sacrilege!_ " hollered James. " _This is sacrilege of the tenets of the Potter household with regards the lady love. We always ask immediately and always ask repeatedly till we wear down the lady in question, and then charm her out of trying to even think of refusing a second date!_ "

"She is also my best friend," Harry retorted with more than a faint note of reproof. "And I don't need to wear her down. She knows everything. **_Everything_** , including the future," he repeated. "So she knows who she was to me and who she will be if **_she_** so wishes and deigns to allow me to court her."

" _Back off, James,_ " Lily quietly said. " _I think Harry has the measure of the situation better than you did_."

"Yes," Remus drily reported. "So much so, that the Potter elves have taken to calling her Mistress."

"THEY CALL HER WHAT?" shouted Sirius, James and Lily as one.

"Oh yes. Don't they Harry?"

"You should have asked Beat. I bloody well don't know why they do that!" Harry protested indignantly.

" _Already_?" whispered a flabbergasted Lily.

"I didn't do anything!" cried Harry.

" _But that means that they already_..." James continued, unmindful of his son's protest.

"That's quite enough!" whined the son. "Bloody hell! I haven't..." he started, only for Lily to chastise with, " _Language!"_ That gave everyone pause for thought at the absolutely **_normal_** conversation in the most abnormal of situations – in spite of the fact that Lily had been swearing liberally. Of course, she was an adult, wasn't she? The living unimpaired blinked in turns, like dominoes, while the two soulball-bound people co-operated with a little silence. Then Sirius could no longer stifle his mirth and started sniggering, setting everyone off. It was a really close approximation of two Uncles conniving with the parents to tease the kid. It was almost _normal_.

They fell into companionable silence, savouring the reunion.

"Say Prongsie, I have got a few questions for you."

" _Ask away, Paddy. It's not like we have anything better to do._ "

"As if you ever did," snorted Sirius. "Do you remember that you once told me that you didn't want to bring a child into a war-torn world?" James seemed to sigh at that.

" _I thought you would ask that_ ," answered Lily instead of James. " _Quite honestly, we didn't quite want to. I am sorry if this hurts you, Harry, but I am being brutally honest_ ," she added when Harry made a weak sound of dismay. " _You understood James' position regarding Rosier. So I think you will understand this as well, somewhat. I doubt you'll understand it till it is your turn, and I'd rather that it not be soon._

 _"_ _Anyway, during the war, if we had been unable to save you, but had lived ourselves, I think we would have gone quite insane. I doubt any set of willing parents could survive that in such tense times easily. It was not a risk we were quite prepared to take, particularly at just twenty. However, your grandparents, on both sides mind you, repeatedly got after us on that account. And then when it happened, we couldn't help but be happy; terrified by the what-if but immeasurably happy. Once you came along, we realised we couldn't love you more if we tried. The risks were forgotten in the very real fantasies of scolding you both when James got around to teaching you pranks and Quidditch, taking you to games from the Islington House, helping you learn your subjects, birthday parties, your friends, your first crush, your OWLs and NEWTs..._ "

Harry was dismayed initially, but the argument had no fallacies. He could understand. Hadn't he felt something similar about Teddy, his godson? He tried to put himself in his parents' position, and while he didn't understand the true extent, he could imagine it somewhat. And they did say they love him, didn't they?

" _Why such a question though, Pads?_ " asked James, breaking that train of thought.

"Because Paddy is going to be a Daddy!" answered Remus ecstatically.

" _Congratulations, Padfoot!"_ yelled James, making them all wince. Such exuberance might have suited him in life, but as a little ball...

" _So how far along are you? What else have you done? What is being done to protect Amy? What are the plans?"_

"Well, the Garnarukran are coming along well, and we might reach an accord. The Ministry is, to all intents and purposes, our ally, so far as the executive cadre goes. We also have only two of the eight Horcruxes left to find, but as you said, it is not necessary. At the moment, we are re-establishing the Houses of Peverell, Gryffindor and Slytherin. Harry and Hermione have to separate plans. We are putting both into action."

" _What plans?"_ Upon receiving a short description of the reasons, actions and projected effects, the two went entirely silent. Too silent. Then James started laughing his head off.

"WHAT?" the three cried in unison. They had to wait patiently for the answer.

" _You know how they say that men are most likely to marry a woman who is like their mother, personality-wise?"_

 _"_ Yeah?"

" _I just realised that Harry is well onto that path... Especially given what the elves call her."_

"What do you mean?"

" _Do you know why Voldemort was targeting us?"_

"The prophecy of course!"

" _Oh come off it! The prophecy and stuff is utter drivel! The real reason is that he was eliminating competition!"_

"What are you talking about dad? Everyone hammered the "you two look so much like Lily and James" spiel on us so much that it revolted me and I went out of my way to call the Weasley girl a sister. This is throwing me for a loop!"

" _That is stupidity, by the way. But never mind that. Have you checked the Potter vault in its entirety?"_

"No. The Grimoire has been the only thing of interest. Otherwise the investments are being ably handled by Goldhaul. He's been teaching me wealth management because he will not "let the dismal monetary morals of humans make a mockery of his nation through me." Why do you ask though?"

" _Well we made similar plans to control the enchanted object market. At the time it was the biggest security problem across the country. I believe it fell under an entirely too understaffed and heavily ignored department under Weasley. Anyway, I digress. Through that request sheet, we would have exclusive ownership of goods and land with all that it would entail, transaction details and ward control over every shop in Knockturn Alley and Illeg Alley, though not the Alleys themselves. Of course, it was as a request for checking the possibility and feasibility."_

It was taking all the control he could muster for Harry to not sweat bullets. That action – for which the only other person who knew the perpetrator, Luna, had chastised him – had come back to bite him. He really should have thought it through, instead of just going in half-cocked. He realised that he had done a Riddle. He learnt two things – he had to curb his stupidity and that he had come by whatever cunning he had honestly. He decided to divert any uncomfortable questions with a bit of humour.

"They honestly have a place called Illeg Alley?" he asked with a snicker. "Are there speciality shops in some place called Specific Alley?"

" _As a matter of fact there are_ ," answered Lily. " _I am surprised you don't know about that._ "

"What is this Prongslet? You don't know about places that you will eventually make your dominion?" Sirius asked in shock.

"I thought you researched better than that, cub. It's a bit...disappointing." Remus had the disappointed mien that was Dumbledore's trademark down pat.

" _It's alright son. There are such Alleys spread across the place. There are of course Diagon, Knockturn, Illeg, and Specific, as well as Technique where the mass production amenities are located,"_ James explained solemnly. " _I mean Floo Powder is required in vast quantities and can't be made in a Potions Lab, can it?_

" _Together all these Alleys are part of the Magic Alley._ "

" _James, you forgot one more place. That Alley with the single building in it, what's its name, The Odd Genies Club in L'ogic Alley."_

The two senior Marauders blinked and then their shoulders slumped, as Harry asked Sceptic Alley...er...sceptically, "Really? The Odd Genies? Diogenes? L'ogic Alley? Mum?"

" _Lils, you just had to spoil that one, didn't you?_ " chid James. " _You had started such a wonderful prank, and then you do this. That's rather disappointing, you know._ "

" _I was trying!"_ protested Lily. " _It doesn't come naturally to me! Don't tell me that you never had failed pranks!"_

"You were pulling a prank?" asked Harry in surprise.

"It was a good one too, till Lils ruined it," groused Sirius.

"So there really isn't any Specific, Technique and L'ogic, is there?"

"The Technique Alley exists. We have some investments there. The others don't," answered James sadly. They were finally getting to prank their son, damn it!

Deciding to help his mother out, the youngest of them all changed the subject. "So how exactly does that plan make mum and Hermione similar?"

" _Merlin, Prongslet! Whose idea do you think it was? If the matter was left to me alone to handle, I might have just set the place on fire!_ " Harry couldn't help but wince. " _My dearest flower gave a wonderful alternate solution. That's not to say that she isn't bloodthirsty; quite the opposite, in fact. So far you have done everything like me, almost. Hermione seems to be the one to temper that part of you. Of course, getting people to set up businesses and the way you took out the Malfoy scum was like her."_ James paused, before resuming, this time pride evident in his voice. " _You are truly our son, Harry! I am damn proud of you!"_

Nothing else could have made Harry as happy at that moment as hearing that did. Sirius and Remus beamed at the box and the boy. While he was able to put up a show of comfort and confidence when someone thanked him or something, an offhand, genuine compliment still left him floundering and wanting to change the subject.

"Thank you," he mumbled as loudly as he dared, before asking, "How did that make you both old Tommy boy's competitors?"

" _Isn't it obvious? We were willing to become the next Caerwyn Potter. Control enough of the economy in spite of not being the richest by controlling important parts of it and voila! We could influence policy. No need for bloodshed! Well, not much bloodshed, anyway. Just kill off a Death Eater here and there, Imperius a few others to hurt other related Death Eaters and you have a bunch of people supposed to be on the same side intent on killing each other. We could just sit back and enjoy the show. Of course, it was Lily's idea. I couldn't fault her arguments that inaction, apathy and aversion to change on the part of the people who weren't bigots had taken us to the terror we daily lived in. We had to be the change. I would obviously be the brawny, bloodthirsty, grunt-working, politically present minion, and she the brains of the pair. Happily so, as long as I would be adequately and appropriately_ **rewarded,** _that is_ **.** _"_

A certain part of Harry was commending that plan. Another part of him recognised that here were the two people who could give him advice regarding the way to dispose of Voldemort – publicly – while at the same time becoming at least slightly feared himself. The part that reacted though was the one that really didn't need the information James was trying to convey. "Yuck! Dad! I didn't need to know that."

" _What's the matter? You were eighteen! You must have had some experience?"_ On receiving no answer, the balled up man actually whimpered in denial. " _This can't be...this can't be..."_

"Overacting much, Prongs?" asked Remus wryly. "May I remind you how much you moaned as you held out for Lily?"

"That's actually true!" agreed Sirius. "I am quite sure that even girls' dorms have less gossip on that subject than ours did." He imitated a semi-gruff voice as he mimicked, "Have you seen her rack? Oh wait only I am supposed to check her rack!"

"Change the bloody subject, damn it!" whimpered Harry. The topic was straying into downright scary territory.

If he had eyes, James would have glared. Didn't the Prongslet understand that he was the result of such an activity? Then he realised that it might be very awkward for the kid to speak about it to two _balls_ and not parents. That was awkward. That was very awkward. He was known to be very blithe in life, and even he couldn't have done it.

"So, son, how's this season going for Puddlemere and Arsenal?"


	47. Chapter 47

**The Return of the Kin**

* * *

A/N: A big thank you to all reviewers, followers and favouriteers. This story has, at the time of writing, made it to the top 1.02% on the performance index of Harry Potter stories, all thanks to you, based on story favourite parameters (5802/~573000). Each of you has a share in taking the story to where it now is.

I always wanted to write something like that – companies always make such claims that nobody bothers to check, but are meaningless and true, and include stats to keep shareholders interested. To all writers with accounts on the host site, you readers, reviewers, followers and favouriteers are all shareholders, in a way.

Daphne-action postponed. Apologies for the lateness. A part of this chapter touches briefly on religion, a concept that canon curiously lacks given the obvious clash of cultures. It was important that the matter incorporated be as close to the actual truth as possible, even though it is vague and purely fictional. The chief source used was: www . druidry . org and www. bbc. co. uk / religion / 0 / 20693321 as well as www. timeless myths . com In the UK, Druidry was recognised as a religion in 2010 by the Charity Commission.

 **ABBREVIATIONS KEY:**

 **DMLE:** DEPARTMENT OF MAGICAL LAW ENFORCEMENT

 **DE:** DEATH EATER(S)

 **CEMD** : CHIEF EDITOR AND MANAGING DIRECTOR.

 **Warning 1** : Slight Crack.

 **Warning 2: DUMBLEDORE, RESTORED TO HIS REAL SELF, IS A VERY CLEVER, CONSCIENTIOUS MAN! HE TRIES TO BE BETTER, OR AT LEAST DIFFERENT. MORE IMPORTANTLY, HE IS HUMAN, WITH ALL THAT IT ENTAILS.**

 **Target** **trope** : anthropomorphic manifestation or similar existence of Hogwarts.

* * *

The people of magical Britain were treated to an in-depth analysis of Fudge's time in office starting from the first Monday of the New Year. Starting only from 1990, the man had been a thorough disaster as a Minister.

Rita Skeeter was revelling in her dream job – finding out dirty secrets about people, finding ways for everyone to know about it and earning money through that. Initially, she had her scruples – not moral of course, just that she would not be paid and her work would not be present in the public domain under her name. Now though, with the fantastic pay package, high profile targets and the law coming down hard on these targets, she had, in her newfound prosperity, even developed something of a conscience.

It started off with a report in the **_Magic of Facts_**. The paper, started by Madam Longbottom and with Arianna Dearborn as the **CEMD** *, had had to, upon popular demand, start a special edition dedicated to the coverage of the upheaval in the offices on 7/13 Whitehall Place. Gringotts had, upon request by certain factions of the Ministry in an "attempt to secure financial regularity within the Ministry", brought several officially unsanctioned monetary transactions into the public domain. It was polite, official jargon for 'investigations regarding corruption'. The aim was to shame the embattled Minister into stepping down.

Fudge, predictably, dug his heels in, going so far as to make a public statement that he had, "nothing to hide, and that the allegations stemmed from political vendetta. I welcome the investigations which I am sure will clear me of any wrongdoing."

The Ministry itself distanced itself from this stance, with Pius Thicknesse, Rufus Scrimgeour and Amos Diggory, the three senior-most officials in the Ministry making a joint statement declaring that the process of investigation was sacrosanct and that its outcome was not a foregone conclusion.

A certain Albus Dumbledore and his friend, Elphias Doge, under the slightly self-aggrandising and equally self-deprecating pen-names, The **G** rand **O** ld **G** entlemen **O** f **M** agical **P** olitic **s** , or the Gogomps as they called themselves, had started writing a very in-depth critique of every law brought in by the Death Eaters. Since they had both been present when the laws were passed, the pseudonyms were necessary.

Each law was examined in isolation, then the article – which basically took up two pages of the newspaper – would go on to examine the list of legislations and laws supporting the one under examination, the supposedly intended effects, a demographic of the affected, how they were affected, what the effects were at present and what it would lead to in the future. It was however written in the manner of stories or with humour heavily interspersed to make the subject palatable. Dumbledore really had been a great teacher once.

It was only two articles into the series, printed on alternate days, that Augusta revealed the authors' identity. It was a massive surprise. Nobody had expected Dumbledore to get back into action so soon. He had, of course, been discharged only on the 30th of December, but it seemed he was becoming restless and wanted in on the action.

That apart, the list of Death Eaters released by the Ministry was published in the paper with the legislations each one brought in, just to reiterate. It was an aggressive stance that had been taken.

All in all, the campaign was out to prove Cornelius Fudge as a Death Eater or at least a supporter. The Alliance already knew which way the wind was blowing with its most visible members, and several others – though not all; there are always those who drag their feet – had followed suit. It was only going to be a matter of time.

Biggem had convinced Sirius against becoming the major investor in the Prophet, supplanting the Urquhart and Selwyn collaboration. Having all the existing media print an anti-Minister line would be counterproductive as it would make Cornelius Fudge a martyr undergoing a media trial.

While the execution of Selwyn muted the Ministry mouthpiece largely, the Urquhart family still had enough sway and had adopted a 'let's not be hasty and make the Minister a scapegoat' line. It waxed eloquent about letting justice take its course within the ambit of the law instead of sweeping an administration out of office on suspicion and popular, but possibly flawed public sentiment.

This was not new, because even at the start of the aggressive offensive campaign against the Death Eaters, Barnabas Cuffe had not only dragged his feet, but also had tried to tip Mario Selwyn off. Barnabas, however, had been placed under a communications observation (which was upgraded to embargo) and the message was intercepted. The Ministry order was enforced in spite of the "freedom of the press" and "human rights" spiel that Cuffe had tried to spout when confronted. Paid press was not exclusively present in the mundane domain. Like anywhere else, with enough money, even the terrorists could be turned into "poor, misguided youth" and other such tripe. Human Rights of the victim were of no consequence for the compromised press when the courts were to punish such 'misguided' people who were either well-connected murderers or conveniently newsworthy and could be milked by creating a stance they neither had nor associated themselves with to sway public sympathies.

The faction within the Ministry that largely agreed with Amelia – revitalised by thereunto inexistent funds that had suddenly become conditionally available – had taken a similar path to subvert the due process of journalism. It was one among the several underhanded (and heavy-handed) but entirely necessary actions taken at the time. So of course, the flip side of the controlled media was on display.

The ensuing months, however, had worked on the very pulse that any form of media touches first – the very popular sentiment that the Prophet tried to demean. The cultivation of the popular sentiment was very important, even if it really didn't amount to much, legislatively speaking. After all, Voldemort had achieved that very feat first, before he had unleashed his bloodthirstiness on the magical public.

The pureblood propaganda worked at the start of Voldemort's first rise because it played on the self-righteous indignation that many magicals felt because the 'outsiders' were attempting to force entry into 'their' world. It was only when the murders became indiscriminate that there was any opposition. Reinforcing the fact that more purebloods (some of them not even opposing or supporting Voldemort) were murdered by the Death Eaters played on the 'hard done by' sentiment that was vicariously felt by the self-same tacit supporters who initially were apathetic and phlegmatic in their response because they couldn't bring themselves to care for the people who died initially because they had come from the muggle filth and they themselves weren't hurt, or because Voldemort had 'the right idea'.

It wasn't to say that everyone was the same. There were opponents of the sentiment as a political or business agenda. They were of course the first victims, their deaths becoming instrumental in making people question.

It was weird how the mob's stance ebbed, flowed or reversed depending on its convenience. The only way to win was by having enough purchase with what ruled the hearts of the public and by winning them over, which was what the restructured and revitalised DMLE had managed, once the first pebbles had been dislodged. Many believed that it should have been the set of action that the powers that be should have taken long before.

Nobody, of course, thought to think that they had been just as unconcerned in the decade of peace as they had been during the unrest before the war. Everyone wanted a hero, probably even wanted to be one – just so long as they didn't actually have to do anything.

* * *

The Magic of Facts and its articles weren't the only contributions of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Longbottom to the fight. The execution of the Letranges had made an old, embittered woman very happy, viciously happy. Augusta Longbottom had realised that it was time for House Longbottom to aid the House of Potter in exacting revenge. More importantly, to her mind, it was a recognition of the debt that she knew Harry wouldn't claim off her House: that of helping make its Heir a man of conviction. The past months had done more for her grandson than her years of misguided attempts at training him up for the role had. She decided that it was time for Neville to be handed over a large part of the legacy.

So it was that Neville had contributed in celebration of being allowed access to the Longbottom Grimoire and on seeing the Lestranges' deaths. It was a bit difficult for him. His wish for revenge was not truly satiated, yet he feared killing. What had happened was enough for him to accept, if only grudgingly.

The ritual had intrigued Harry a lot, and it had been among the questions he had asked his parents. Time Turners really helped a lot. The Longbottoms, as Augusta had admitted, were no longer practitioners of the old ways. She didn't know therefore how rituals were created. Or what, in fact, the old ways were. Both James and Lily had quite a bit to say which made the matters only a bit clearer.

Flashback~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

" _You have to understand_ _that native religious practices,"_ James had started to explain in a slightly solemn tone, " _have pretty much varied from each conglomeration of clans. Initially, almost all the people across the Isles followed what was later derided as Paganism. Historically and theologically, the magical people have always maintained a closer relationship with nature, which is what the beliefs were based on. If you search for it, you will find lots of references to the Morrighan, Bran and so on. That's not exactly the point._

 _"So far there has been no serious attempt to discover the source of magic. Why are some people magical and some not? When did it originate? Where did it originate? Ancient peoples thought of magic, if they thought of it as something different at all, as a gift from the Gods. Which Gods? That depended upon local beliefs. The underlying concept was that this gift could be utilised only if a sacrifice or a payment of some sort was offered. The prayers and celebrations revolve around the seasons. They consisted of various sorts of living sacrifices. But that is what people stress upon. It still is not the core, as much as the value system associated with the practice is._

 _"Daven, whose words I quote, gave a summary of the values:_ _Briefly stated the virtue of Honour requires one to adhere to their oaths and do the right thing, even if it will ultimately hurt others or oneself in the process. A Druid is obligated to remain true to friends, family and leaders thus exhibiting the virtue of Loyalty. Hospitality demands that a Druid be a good host when guests are under one's roof. Honesty insists that one tell the truth the whole truth and nothing but the truth to yourself, your gods and your people. Justice desires the Druid understands everyone has an inherent worth and that an assault to that worth demands recompense in one form or another. Courage for the Druid does not always wear a public face; it is standing-strong-in-the-face-of-adversity, alone or with companions. Sometimes Courage is getting up and going about a daily routine when pain has worn one down without complaint or demur._

"But then I have killed!"

" _Did the people you killed respect the inherent worth of the person? Did you kill innocents? Were your action not aimed at administering justice that had been denied?_ "

"I have lied to the people around me!"

" _Didn't they know that you lied to them when you did, and when you no longer needed to hide, did you not tell them the truth? In fact from all that you have told us, son, I would say that you have pretty much followed the doctrine!_ "

Harry bowed his head. He knew of two instances that went contrary to that. And three, if he counted cursing Ginny. The doctrine he knew he had flouted had a simple explanation: Do unto others what you'd have others do unto you. Of course, barring Sirius and Hermione, he hadn't been truthful about Cassiopeia either.

As Harry remained silent in his worry, James took up the discourse again. _"The druidry, as we have practised it, is the channelling of magic through a connection with nature, instead of focussing it. A payment or sacrifice of some sort essentially is towards, let us say, permanence of the effect. It is a recognition of the fact that magic is not our own, but a gift from powers far higher than we can imagine, and so should be wielded with care and caution. It recognises that divinity is in life itself, life as it exists in everything that exists. It is why there is lore and symbolism associated with everything that lives, for each living thing has spirit._

 _"Personally, I have the belief that the elements – fire, water, earth and wind – are the most closely related of all to us. How else would we have elementals? Our practices have seen us return our magic to nature through cremation. Others have buried it into the earth which is the most prevalent of known practices. Again the point is that we are surrendering, at the end, to nature, whence our powers came to be. Every bit of magic we use needs payment._ "

"But then how do they create rituals? How do they understand the symbolism? How is that magic taught and learnt? How does it advance?"

" _This is my theory, okay?_ _You know that magic is chiefly intent, yeah?"_ Lily started to propound. _"But intent alone doesn't do things. People can have bad intentions. Now the Runes which we learn were the most ancient channelling devices. The chief druid or priest or whatever it might have been for the local community, was practically always a wizard. These people had a very different as compared to the warriors. Sacrifice, intent and faith have always been major components of the rituals that have been performed. That, together with a wizard or witch's magic, bolstered the intended effects._

" _Wands are pretty much Roman imports. That wasn't the focus of choice. There is a reason why the adage '_ words have power _' has stuck in the magical world, though the people have long since forgotten the real reason. The earliest magic was cast through chants. These chants were developed through trial and error, and the successful ones were passed down through the generations. That includes the grammar, as it were, as_ well. _I read somewhere that they spent twelve years learning the grammar, in fact._ _They might have eventually learnt various associations of magic and nature for real which is where the more complex rituals might have sprung from. After all, they weren't the only ones to do so – much of the magic cast by native magic-users in all other continents had more than just passing similarities. It was only the difference in native natural availability that affected the evolution of magic differently everywhere."_

And wasn't this so similar to the evolution of man over the Ages? This meant that Andrew Potter was a skilled and adept worker of native magic, a product of the very evolution. "So when the ritual to combat the Horcrux was made..."

 _"Hadrian Potter the Second perverted soul and magic herself. In his curiosity he harmed an innocent. He shall forever be remembered as the singular stain on our family, our inclination to war notwithstanding. His willing remorse which led him to seek help from his son to counter his crime did not make him any less a criminal. Andrew Potter did exactly what was expected of him. I do not know the exact manner of the creation of the ritual. He did not document it, and with good reason. The less is known about it, apart from the way it is performed, the less likelihood there is of it being countered."_

"Yes mother." When she spoke last, it was Lady-elect Potter who spoke, not just Lily Evans-Potter.

Realising that she had seemed extremely angry at her son, she audibly calmed down with a huff of imaginary air. " _It's a sore point for me, Harry. On one hand, I see the rest of the self-proclaimed darkish light grey family and then there was this man who killed a child out of curiosity. It made me doubt this way of staying around to help you lot. At least, this is powered by our own sacrifice, and we have never had the intention to cheat death."_

"Well, I am very glad that you did stay around. I still need to know more though, if I am to use that ritual."

 _"Listen, son,"_ temporised James. _The 'old ways' or whatever it is that you'd choose to call them, are based on your belief, your wish to know and understand. However, if you go in with the sheer belief that it will work, and with enough faith, you need not_ know _it all in much depth. Tell you what, just get Voldemort eliminated. Then we shall have quite some time to pass the knowledge to you."_

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~End Flashback~~~

There were several questions he still had, but the promise James made more than assuaged them for the time being.

* * *

The train ride back to Hogwarts was, for the most part, awkward. Between a sleeping Neville (with a merrily dozing Crookshanks deciding that a comfortably slumped Neville's slumped form was comfortable for him as well), Hermione making random notes and intermittently and absently staring, nodding and mumbling at people, Harry writing an assignment for Sirius, Luna reading the Quibbler upside down, and Ginny observing everyone else in an evaluative manner, Ron's various attempts at conversation while attempting to break the record for the most chocolate frogs devoured during the train ride fell flat. In fairness, he was one of those people who found stifling silences in groups deeply troubling.

It was so even after the small interlude that the twins provided when they returned to the compartment. As it was, the three eldest Weasleys were given unofficial orders by their mother to be on protective detail for the younger kids, yet again, after Voldemort's terror video. The three had tried their best to not roll their eyes at her. _Gilderoy Lockhart_ could have seen that there was no need for them to be the protective detail. It didn't matter anyway, though, as there was a constant Auror presence on board the train. That was good enough for Molly Weasley.

"Great Merlin's saggy..."

"George!"

"Sorry Gin," George muttered without the slightest hint of remorse, "but dear Merlin, Ron, you are still eating those bloody chocolate frogs! We last saw you over an hour ago doing just that!"

Ron shrugged. "I am bored."

The twin and his twin tried to find an appropriate response, but failed.

"Has ickle Won-Won struck you silent, Gred, Forge?" Hermione asked with some amusement.

"Yes," they answered in unison. They were both so affected and flabbergasted that they just sat down in silence. The status quo, as far as the very subdued atmosphere on the train was concerned was preserved.

There wasn't much of the usual boisterousness; the noise associated with lots of people talking and chatting in the various compartments was largely subdued; the Slytherins, of the House which held the bulk of the 'children of the Death Eaters' contingent, accompanied by others from the other three Houses with the same predicament, were now largely in fear of what lay in store for them. Some of them believed in what their deceased and marked ancestors did. Some didn't. Some simply didn't care. Unfortunately, many were now the Heads or Heads-presumptive of their families. That was something Riddle had been very assiduous about. He didn't pursue everyone; he pursued the family Heads to ensure overall compliance. So the futures of the people who were now the Heads were up in the air.

The 'video' that Voldemort had sent was a very scary thing. Not because of its content, no. It was scary because of what the very act of sending itself achieved. Apart from an exemplary show of memory magic – for the letters had turned into mirrors for those families that didn't have pensieves – it was a show of the fact that he _knew where every magical person lived._ With the Ministry warning about the inferi, the turn of the year had not been the most joyful one.

The only good – if after everything else, it could still be classed as such – was that Voldemort was currently unable to exercise magic. That also meant that he had access to someone powerful enough to enchant the letters. And it also meant that the leak within the Ministry had not yet been found. All this had led to a truly subdued magical Britain. With the actually small number of thinking, sentient followers at his disposal, Voldemort would most likely fight a guerrilla war or send swathes of inferi at targets.

At least people were back to wartime security checks, questions and stuff. They were idiots. People who forsook sensible, logical behaviour and vigilance at the first sliver of peace didn't deserve peace.

Hermione looked back up from whatever she was writing, cast an evaluative gaze at the twins, then scribbled something more in her notebook and pushed it under Harry's nose.

"What?"

"Get this done, as soon as you can."

"What is it? I'm writing an assignment! I have got an exam coming up!"

"Yes. I know how it will be and I know you're aiming for an EE. You'll get it. This is important and urgent."

"You have got exam envy," Harry grumbled as he read what she'd written. It was a very elegant way to solve a situation he wanted resolved. "This will be done."

"What are you two doing?" Ginny asked, unable to contain herself.

"Just some work," Hermione replied in an offhand manner. She was unwilling to divulge anything at all to Ginny, and had been quite standoffish with the younger girl. All big cats are territorial. And tigresses are always solitary. It suited Hermione better than the lioness that was Harry's Patronus as an animagus form. Hermione frowned. She still had to learn that, and Harry was avoiding that as far as he could, not even broaching the subject if he could help it. Then again, if what he said was true, ending up naked around him would surely short-circuit his brain. They couldn't have that now, could they?

Ginny just frowned at that. She understood what was going on alright. It didn't endear her brother's and Harry's best friend to her even a bit, really. She looked to Luna, who just smiled at Hermione's antics and went back to reading the Quibbler. Only Harry raised an eyebrow at her and she glared back. Harry's expression mellowed a bit and turned slightly pleading. Hermione's glare reluctantly subsided. She said nothing though.

To offset the awkwardness therefore, Harry cleared his throat a bit and addressed Hermione. "Why don't you get Gred and Forge to do their part?"

"What part?" The twins were on alert almost immediately. Not out of enthusiasm, mind. This was Hermione, so it was never going to be a grand prank. Instead it was likely to be unpalatable.

"You are going to write an apology letter to Filch and present it to him yourselves."

"WHAT?" the twins shrieked (in a very manly way, of course).

"You are going to write an apology letter to Filch and present it to him yourselves," Hermione repeated. Turning to Neville (who had been scratched by Crookshanks when he had jerked awake due to the shriek – **_manly_** shriek) and Harry, she intoned, "You two as well!"

"You are insane!" Ron finally declared into the silence caused by the seemingly ludicrous idea. He shut up at her glare and Harry's reprimand of "RON!" Fortunately Hermione had too much practice dealing with such foot-in-the-mouth situations involving Ron over the previous two and half years, so she didn't take any offence.

"You boys are such idiots!" Susan commented drily. "At least listen to her, you stupid judgemental Gryffindors!"

"Everyone is passing judgement and generalising, yet nobody realises it," Luna pointed out with a small laugh. That calmed the storm in the teacup.

"You better explain _why_ we have to do that, before demanding that we do," Harry suggested.

"It will get Filch out of your hair, permanently."

"Why didn't you start with that? You'd be a poor saleswoman, Granger. Always start with the incentive and then push the bad news down your customers' throats!" The future owners of the Weasleys Wizarding Wheezes casually threw that pearl of wisdom.

Hermione gave them a glare, then smiling sweetly and with a falsely enthusiastic voice repeated, "Fred, George, this is what you have to do to get Filch out of your hair permanently!"

"That's still a bit tabloid-y, but it should work."

"Filch's main problem is that as a squib, whenever anyone pulls pranks which he can't manage, he has to look for help and it hurts his self-esteem. That's why he is as he is. Moreover, have you seen that in spite of having elves around the castle – who incidentally can wield more magic than Filch – he has to do all the cleaning jobs which require him to get his hands dirty in the literal sense? It's caused him to have a deep-seated resentment towards magicals. If you just honestly write him a letter, till he can be reassigned to better things, he will not bother you, much."

"But we can't _not_ pull pranks!" protested Neville, of all people.

"That's not what I am saying. If he sees you cleaning up after yourselves every once in a while it will help you. When you pull a truly spectacular one, he might overlook it since you will already be clearing up after yourselves."

Fred blinked. Then George blinked. Then their successors blinked in turn. "We never thought of that..."

"Well, do so now," was the testy reply.

As the boys all "bowed down to her superior intelligence", Ginny decided that she really didn't like Hermione Granger. There might be other people who were working towards winning the Wizarding World, but somewhere deep inside Ginny knew, Hermione would seek to control it. The controlling instinct was too ingrained in her to not do so.

Her object of dissent sat smiling at the tomfoolery she had just encouraged. It was only going to be little bits of changes to support Harry that would keep him afloat and relatively sane while Riddle was still around. She had thought about everything for quite some time before realising that she was making the same mistake that everyone else had. Each memory had shown a vulnerable Harry, who was forced to react rather than act. It left him out of control, and it was a feeling he was fighting. The more any of them tried to reason, the more obstinate he would become. If instead he was given help, something more to work with, or a way out, a solution, he would become more reasonable. It wouldn't always be in keeping with her true nature. That wasn't her goal. She was always needed by her best friend. The only thing that kept changing was what he needed her to be. And Hermione was nothing if not adaptable, given the correct incentive.

* * *

The night when they all returned to Hogwarts, the ghosts were suspiciously absent from anywhere around the place. It was unnervingly different. There were certain things that made Hogwarts, Hogwarts. Hagrid, his beasts and his hut, the ghosts, Madam Pince ruling over her personal fiefdom since times immemorial, the library, a castle that always had something new and undiscovered in its bowels were some of those things. So when every ghost except Myrtle, and including even Peeves, were absent so conspicuously, people took notice.

A _very_ healthy looking Dumbledore was sitting at the Head of the Staff Table again. He looked...positively normal. And not normal in terms of Dumbledore, no; he looked normal in the terms of every other witch and wizard. Simple navy blue robes which were not altogether different from a Saville Row suit, with trims in the colours of every house being the extent to which his robes deviated from the normal, comprised his attire for the day. That meant everyone was instantly wary. People didn't change so instantaneously, cursed or not. He didn't address the students – it was not the start of the year, and the returning dinner wasn't a feast. But it was rather obvious that changes were in the offing.

It was at the end of the dinner that Dumbledore made an announcement. "Students, welcome back. As you must know by now, the dark times are returning. No amount of security is truly enough. Some security features required your presence, and as such these will be updated within the following two days. Classes will start on Thursday, the thirteenth."

There was only a subdued murmur that greeted that.

Dumbledore ploughed on regardless. "It has come to the staff's attention that we have largely been remiss in our duties in terms of discipline. To that end, a few new rules have been instituted.

"Firstly, regarding racial abuse," he declared to increasing murmurs. "Several derogatory terms are used by **_both_** mundane-descended and pureblood students. For the first, and the last time, I shall use those words to demonstrate the effects. Mudblood," he uttered, causing an elf to pop right in front of him. The elf handed him a letter. "Inbreed...Blood-traitor...Magic thief...Half breed." For each of the slurs, different elves popped in and handed him letters.

Waving those letters, he spoke again to the assembly, "These letters will be portkeys, all authorised by me, which shall take you to an empty classroom at the end of the day, when you shall be punished in accordance with your previous record and the nature of your abuse. And yes, we have ensured that you can't just discard them. The castle's elves can and will have access to you, wherever you may be. By the nature of their bond to the school they cannot hurt you," he added as the murmurs rose, "so they aren't security hazards. Your presence from any classes that you may have attended that day will be struck off, any points you may have gained will be lost, any homework that you may have submitted will not be considered, and any other positive thing you may have participated in will be treated as invalid due to your participation."

Several higher years across the Houses seemed mutinous at this announcement. That was instantly quelled by the next statement.

"If such a system still doesn't inculcate in you the need for ignoring what you can't tolerate, if not tolerance and unity, it will reflect on your academic certifications. This means that OWL students or NEWT students will have a remark on their result certificates that will stop only slightly short of branding you as racist people. The Ministry and Gringotts have both assured me and the Wizarding Examinations Authority that such a remark will be detrimental to any ambitions that the individual may harbour in terms of employment in these fine institutions. I believe many businesses shall also soon follow suit."

There was silence in the hall that seemed to build up at that. Many on both sides of the blood divide were guilty. While the mundane-raised did not necessarily have the terms to express their derision, they nonetheless didn't shy away from giving as good as they got, which, in the situation they daily faced, was necessary. Yet, as is human nature, some took it a bit too far. It wasn't just Draco deriding the erstwhile 'squib' Neville. Some newbloods and halfbloods had targeted the 'scion of a filthy inbred pureblood family' as well – never mind the fact that the Longbottoms were anything but that, and the fact that his parents had sacrificed their sanity for their son, but they were put into the situation because they opposed Voldemort. It was a dangerous trend.

"This particular stipulation comes with an addendum. We shall be starting with a blank slate for everyone. It is not so much a case of letting bygones be bygones as a final chance for all of you. Hogwarts endeavours to give the world the best of the students that seek knowledge within her halls. That also includes their best traits as people, as humans."

Applause started from the staff bench and quickly spread through the student tables. This was a very positive and punitive step that was being taken, and since, in reality, only about a tenth of the student body actually indulged in such divisive behaviour, the majority of the students obviously welcomed it.

"As to other measures, all mail received by students will be magically scanned for any harmful magic or substances. In light of recent events, I hope this step is taken as it is intended. Any sender of such substances will be traced and prosecuted by the DMLE.

"Furthermore, any substances of consumption which are more potent than butterbeer are henceforth banned. Students caught with such contraband will be marked in much the same way as those who are to be punished for racial infractions. **_ALL_** entrances," and here his eyes found Fred and George momentarily, "have been equipped with alarms to check for any kind of transport of such contraband. Professor Lupin has been most helpful in this matter."

There was some polite applause for Remus. Fred and George's shoulders slumped visibly. This was Moony, who not only knew the map, but had made it and helped make the new version which included the Room of Requirements and the Chamber. They had no chance to continue their after game parties unless they found new hidden routes. They had no knowledge of how much Remus had chastised himself for what he considered hypocrisy. But this was the final stretch in the battle against Voldemort, and now was not the time to fall short.

"The next important notice is for students to register all potions, powders or any other substances to be ingested which they as of this moment possess. Anything that they receive via post or buy from Hogsmeade shall also need registration. If a registered Healer's Certificate stating the need is attached, the substance shall be returned after verification of the note. The castle elves, your Head of House and I shall accompany you immediately after dinner. You will all be let in individually and your possessions will be checked in your presence."*

That was it. It was the death knell for the twins' prank career. They created and depended on ingestible potions. There was a loophole regarding any potions that they brewed within Hogwarts, but still, they could no longer source those from Zonko's. It was an opportunity wrapped within the restrictions, but they didn't think of it immediately.

"And finally, along with your possessions, your pets shall also be checked. Similar procedures as for non-sanctioned substances shall be followed. However, as the pets are no longer limited to cats, kneazles, owls or toads, if the animal in question is proven to be sufficiently within your control, no change in their status as pets will be made."

Reactive these new rules might be, but they were aimed to address at least known the fallacies in the Hogwarts security system. The castle was not yet secure thoroughly, but steps were being taken to make it so.

"This last announcement is for Gryffindor. Professor Minerva McGonagall has decided to permanently step down as the Head of House. This post shall now be taken up by Professor Bathsheba Babbling. For the students of the first two years, and those who do not take Ancient Runes: her office and contact details have been posted on the common room notice board.

This announcement elicited clasps and muted cheers. McGonagall was a 'what works stays' kind of Head of House. Who knew what Babbling would do? Many expected Remus to take up the reins of the job he had held for about a month, but he had declined in favour of devoting his time to shoring up the defences of the castle. He was the one person who had actually been on the side of both the mischief-makers and the disciplinarians. More importantly, the Marauder had matters of far more importance to deal with. He was to be an Uncle all over again. This new cub would only know of Voldemort as a fable or a bogeyman, if he could help it, which he could.

"Thank you," concluded Dumbledore over the pensive mood in the hall.

* * *

A lot was discovered in the aftermath of the announcements. Cormac McLaggen and Lucian Bole were found to be collaborating in a business venture that would always be looked down upon. It would have been an excellent example of inter-House friendship and unity, were it not for the subjects of the substance trade. Potions really did have all sorts of uses. The two were suspended, pending DMLE inquiry. They were underage, so they couldn't be arrested, but they were sequestered till the DMLE officials and their parents arrived.

There were no more Peter Pettigrew-s, but one Slytherin in the fifth year, Lucinda Marcel was found to have a pet snake – an adder at that. She wasn't a Parselmouth, nor was there a familiar bond between her and the snake. She was required to change her pet. Quite a few other students in the House of the Snakes heaved a sigh of relief at that.

That apart, it was fairly quiet. Fred and George lost their Zonko's products, as did many others, but that was the extent of things. This lot was only given detentions.

It was the start of sweeping changes. And the shock value of their implementation was what helped unveil most of the offenders. It was alright to be cautiously optimistic.

* * *

Early at dawn the following day, the four House ghosts entered the Gryffindor dormitories. Body modesty in any type of dormitory is a practically mythical concept. For people dead for nearly hundreds of years or more, that wasn't new. Dubiously voyeuristic tendencies of the House Ghosts aside, they were there to wake the Heir to his duties.

Nick's head fell off his neck onto the sleeping raven-haired boy. The feeling of cold (ghosts, somehow, were colder than the surroundings, and it was bloody winter!) caused him to scream loudly as he was violently roused from the land of dreams, before he screamed even louder upon seeing the four ghosts, one of them a woman, in his state of undress. Thankfully, the silencing charms on the curtains held.

"Show off," muttered Helena Ravenclaw.

"It's thanks to him that I can join the Headless Hunt," Nick replied from his head's vantage point on Harry's pillow. The Baron suddenly shimmered near the rest of Nick's body. "Yes, the Baron did the deed, of course." Flipping the head around in his hands after picking it up and inspecting it, Nick continued excitedly, "I had to show him."

"Once you lot have had your fun waking me, will someone please tell me what's going on?" asked Harry shakily.

"You did say you wanted us to remind you about meeting Hogwarts."

"There's this thing called a morning you know," he replied, checking the watch which read a quarter to four. "You could have told this to me at breakfast you know, in the thing called, uh, morning."

"No. No way, absolutely, not at all," sang Nick like a ghost who had just got his greatest wish...which he had. "The castle wants you to come now."

"Let me sleep! Just two hours! We don't even have classes!"

"Hogwarts..."

"She can't tell you that. She can't be that awaaaaaaa..." Harry's bed decided to deposit him off itself and onto the ground off its own volition. Luckily, the pillow landed just under Harry's face.

"We tried telling you," The Friar reminded genially.

"This is comfortable," the boy whined.

"I don't see how Hogwarts can deposit you off the floor anywhere else, but a Slytherin would play safe and not tempt fate," The Baron counselled. It was sound advice.

So it was that at a quarter past four, the four ghosts led the human lower and lower and lower into the bowels of the castle. If the Chamber seemed several hundred feet underneath, this seemed to be close to a mile. A very unlikely sight met them. Pesky old Peeves had hounded the tired old Headmaster down with the Sorting Hat in tow.

"Oh you came!" Peeves cackled. "Old Peevsie is very peeved that you didn't come meet Hogwarts before!"

"Sorry?"

"You are now going to be told the secret known to Heirs and Headmasters alone, Harry," Albus said with a tired sigh, interrupting the dialogue. It was too early for formality and ceremony.

"Don't you dare go about divulging the secret Albie-Bulbie!" Peeves pouted. Dumbledore only grimaced. Harry mouthed 'Albie-Bulbie' at the ghosts uncertainly. Turning to Harry, Peeves shouted gleefully, "And now, let me present, my dearest girlfriend, my bonnie lass who's sharper than a cutlass," here, right on cue Peeves changed into a pirate's outfit and there was a drum roll, as he went for the dramatic effect, "HO-O-O-G-WARTS!"

He received a completely pathetic response. Dumbledore sighed again. Harry looked at him with glazed eyes and an uncomprehending stare.

"Applause would be appreciated, you know," groused the peeved Peeves.

"Is Hogwarts insane?"

"Oooooh, the boy is in trouble, Hogwarts likes her Peevsie!" the poltergeist sang as Harry was tripped by the floor of its own accord.

"Can we just get this done, Hogwarts?" Dumbledore pled.

"Yes. Hogwarts wants it done at exactly three minutes to five," The Baron intoned, brandishing his sword at the poltergeist.

And so it was that at three to five, Harry was instructed to prick himself and touch the wardstone.

Nothing happened.

There were no flashes of light, no images rushing into the boy's mind, no change anywhere, no special feeling that permeated him, no 'other' presence, and no voices talking to him. All the same the ghosts were beaming at him. "Was that supposed to happen?"

"It went swimmingly," assured the Friar. Harry only blinked in confusion.

"Really, boy, Hogwarts is a school, a centre of learning. What did you think? She would behave like a familiar, constantly communicating and clamouring for attention?" chid Helena. "You are only going to get images if she finds danger to anyone within her boundaries. And you will be required to control any new wards that it may be necessary to erect if there is an attack on the castle by coming here again. That is all. This is the heart of Hogwarts. Around us are the leylines from which this castle draws power. It needs to be harnessed for the protection of Hogwarts and her inhabitants. Now you are tied to the castle till another comes to take your position. That's how the heirs learnt their responsibilities."

"And what if I am a danger to someone?"

"If inadvertently: you will be knocked out. If advertently: you will be knocked out and the Headmaster will be notified and he will be obligated to contact your family."

"What if it interferes with my duties as a sworn protector?"

"The same as above applies. The danger to your protectorate will be knocked out."

"Oh." Then he turned to look at Dumbledore, and back at the ghosts and asked, "Why was it necessary for him to be here? Not that I have a problem, but the Headmaster had to get up at this hour to fetch a hat and do nothing?"

"I was required as a witness – and to introduce you to the Hat, or..."

"Rudolph?" asked Harry. "I know him...er...it."

"You know me as the sorting hat, boy. You don't know me as the voice of Hogwarts."

Voice of Hogwarts. The bloody sorting hat was the voice of Hogwarts, who was Peeves' girlfriend. "Sir?"

"Yes Mr. Potter?"

"Am I having an exceptionally odd dream?"

"When I became Headmaster, I asked the same question to my predecessor's portrait. The answer, unfortunately, was 'no'."

Yes. This was exactly how all magicals seemed to go loopy. There was a little bout of silence as the youngest person tried to assimilate everything that he now knew.

"So what did Hogwarts want to say?"

"I have no doubt Albus will want to meet you in his office after breakfast. You can hear me out then. Now off with you."

Still reeling from being rudely dismissed by a tatty old hat that claimed to be the voice, though it sounded male and was named Rudolph, of a school which was the girlfriend of a poltergeist despite not having even a ghostly body, Harry opened his mouth to protest when Dumbledore practically begged and shouted, "DON'T! Please, whatever you do, don't argue!"

"Old Albie-Bulbie is right of course!" Peeves cackled. "Now, with you, OFF!" Nothing happened again. "My love, why don't you ever give the effects when I go for the dramatics?"

"Because it is funny," answered the Hat, with a giggle. Immediately thereafter, however, Harry was banished to his dorm and Dumbledore to his room in the tower. Both had the same thoughts running through their heads – "Did that really happen?"

And thus, at the most ungodly hour of a quarter past five, Harry Potter was recognised as an Heir to the founders and a custodian and a guardian of the school, temporarily.

* * *

Bathsheba Babbling was not very pleased when Remus and Minerva requested that they accompany Harry to the Headmaster's office. All the same, it was well known that the three were a tentative sort of family. There really was no way to override it. So she had acquiesced.

As they went up to the tower, Remus reminded his nephew of the way things would be. "Now, remember Prongslet. Whatever happens, don't lose your temper, under any circumstances. We don't **_know_** Albus anymore. We haven't for the past fourteen years or so, alright? So if things start getting out of hand, Minerva and I shall handle it. If things are quiet, or normal, you can answer him."

"Yes Moony."

"Good," he muttered, and exhaled noisily, like a man readying himself for a fight, "good."

"Albus will try to pull the remorseful act," Minerva predicted. "The real problem will be trying to sift the truth from the false." She sighed heavily as she admitted, "I can't honestly say that I could be the most objective judge of his behaviour."

"Yet you both trusted him enough to agree with Sirius about giving him restricted access to our home. Why?"

There was a short pause as the three smiled at the 'our home' part. It really was home now, in a way that Hogwarts never was, as the house in Dundee had ceased to be for Minerva, and as Oxford couldn't have been for Remus.

Minerva fielded that question. "All of us foresaw there being a time when we would need a completely inconspicuous place if Riddle were to be resurrected without you, and by association, us, knowing." She had learnt about the scar link. That was necessary to explain away many inconsistencies in his behaviour. "Our home is probably the safest private abode possible."

They reached the gargoyle. Minerva gave the password, "Oranges and Lemons."

"Is he now switching to fruits and health foods after gorging on sweets or has he found a new unhealthy obsession in nursery rhymes?"

"I really, really hope, for the sake of us all, that it is the former," Remus muttered.

"Ah, Remus, Minerva, Harry, come in, come in!" No. He wouldn't change that. Some dogs become too old to be taught any tricks at all, old or new. Dumbledore hadn't called Griselda Marchbanks, _his_ teacher and then examiner, by the proper appellation during his stint as the Chief Warlock. It was unlikely that the courtesy would be extended to those who were eons younger than him. The problem was that if seen cynically, this was the first way of dictating the terms of the meeting.

Therein lay the problem that they all had with the man. On one hand, he was _Dumbledore._ He was the man who had taught the generation before Minerva's. And he was still around. He was an institution by himself. He was her mentor; he was the one who gave a werewolf a chance when nobody else would; he was the man Harry had trusted in the other timeline to know what was best. All of them resented what he had done to the youngest among them, and by association to the family as a whole (even if it wasn't his own true reaction if one looked at it one way); Amelia, Remus and Minerva alone in their respective ways, Sirius and Harry in hell.

And yet there is always the fledgling hope in every person that somewhere the person you look up to has cared for you in his or her own way all along. So they really wanted to ascribe the crimes – for that was what his actions were – on the curse alone, in spite of knowing that the curse only amplified a thereunto latent part of his personality.

It was confusing. So one afternoon, after explaining their actions to Minerva – barring the future thing – so as to ensure that she would be on their side should a certain someone create problems with his machinations, they had conducted an exercise amongst themselves, and attempted to absolve Dumbledore in absentia. One of the examples was the marked absence of any werewolf student after Remus had passed out of Hogwarts, which had led them to believe that he was raising a spy.

They had come to the conclusion that Remus could have very well been a pilot project. There was no precedent of a werewolf student, and if it was widely known, there would have been a massive outcry against such an attempt. If Remus successfully passed Hogwarts without incident, and that was a massive 'if' since there was no Wolfsbane Potion then, then there was a chance for others. Together these students would have been the first examples of successful reintegration of involuntarily (yes, there were those who romanticised the disease or were simply feral and wanted an excuse, and voluntarily chose to be bitten) infected werewolves into mainstream society.

Perhaps the Snape incident had turned him off, or perhaps it was the war, but the fact remained that within less than two years of Remus graduating, Dumbledore had been cursed, so they couldn't exactly say what his plans were, thereafter. It was necessary that the candidates be thoroughly screened. Perhaps some had been checked, but hadn't been found fit for the chance. The two Marauders, once they (in particular, Sirius) had gotten past the need to instinctively lash out at a person who once was an authority figure in their life, had also felt the shame associated with breaking – or rather – _abusing_ Dumbledore's trust to that end. They had been foolish teenagers. Moony should never have left the shack. They had endangered the other students, Hogsmeade's residents, and themselves in the process.

Dumbledore's villainy, as it was, was dubious in that case as in so many others. It vexed them to no end.

Of course, this meant selective blindness with regards to his other faults, and also a need to suspend their disbelief, cynicism and the ever-present anger while looking at each incident in isolation.

"Good morning, Professor."

"It is better than being thrown out of bed by a ghost, I would say," Dumbledore replied with a jolly chuckle.

"That's true, I suppose." There was no mirth, only wariness. It sobered up Dumbledore quickly.

"Alas! I believe I deserve the wariness." He sighed – a Dumbledore trademark, his three visitors quickly remembered. Sighing always made the person sitting opposite him want to treat him like a careworn old man and sympathise with his position, and on occasion, feel guilty. It wasn't as if he wasn't a careworn old man but the sympathy and guilt were certainly absent from the three. Then they had to remind themselves to suppress the cynicism. They offered no real response.

"Very well," the man said with a weary sigh. "Let us get straight to business."

"Let's," agreed his three visitors. Before they did, however, Harry had a bit to say. "Through these past months, sir, I have been violent, rude, and on occasion, downright amoral in my behaviour towards you. I could say that it was primarily to combat your actions as influenced by the Death Eater, and that I honestly didn't believe that I would get away unpunished if I killed a professor, but as Sirius says, there is no excuse for rudeness. I apologise for my behaviour." It was an entirely too stiff apology.

It was rather telling that he made it perfectly clear that he didn't find those actions taken wrong at all. Of course, Dumbledore noted that. Without undue dramatics, he nodded once and replied, "Thank you. If you believe that it is necessary, you of course have my forgiveness."

"Thank you, Professor."

"Well, the drama is good and all, but let's get started," the Hat rudely grumped.

Dumbledore smiled and sighed, and then walked over to the shelf on which sat Rudolph, the voice of Hogwarts. "Hogwarts wants to say something."

"Yes. I do," answered Hogwarts through Rudolph. "You know of course about the TriWizard Tournament." The visitors nodded.

Dumbledore couldn't help it. "How do you know?" he demanded.

"That is not the point!" Hogwarts snapped, silencing the headmaster. "The point is that I refuse to be the host site for the tournament!" she declared.

This wasn't a problem. It was rather good, because there was enough cause for the time traveller to dissuade all parties concerned about this course of action.

"YOU CAN'T DO THAT, PLEASE!" pled Dumbledore frantically.

"And why is that?" spat the hat testily.

"When the agreement was signed, the three participating Head Teachers and the respective Ministers of the delegations were required to sign it with blood quills. If Hogwarts withdraws, Cornelius and I will lose our magic!"

"Cancel the tournament then!"

"Then all six people will lose their magic!"

"THEN YOU FOOLS DESERVE IT!" thundered Hogwarts. "ALL OF YOU! FOR YEARS AND YEARS AND YEARS SINCE THAT INFERNAL BLOODSPORT WAS CONSTITUTED I HAVE PROTESTED TO EVERY HEADMASTER! I PROTESTED AGAINST IT NOW! LOSE YOUR MAGIC THEN, DUMBLEDORE! MAYBE SOMEONE WHO ACTUALLY CARES ABOUT THE STUDENTS WILL TAKE CHARGE FOR A CHANGE!

"EACH TIME IT IS THE SAME THING! MY PRECIOUS CHILDREN ARE PUT UP AGAINST SOME FOE LIKE A DRAGON OR A COCKATRICE OR WHATEVER ELSE THAT THESE FOOLS THINK UP!"

"But it's for international co-operation..." Dumbledore protested weakly.

"I DO NOT SEE HOW INTERNATIONAL COOPERATION REQUIRES SCHOOL STUDENTS TO BE SACRIFICED! ALL OF YOU DESERVE TO HAVE YOUR MAGIC STRIPPED AWAY!"

"Please, my Lady..." Dumbledore pled, as the Hat huffed angrily in Hogwarts' stead. "Please, I was wrong. The intentions of the signees were really..."

"SHUT UP!"

"Lady Hogwarts, if I may suggest it, I do have a way around this..." Harry cut in. This was marvellous. Dumbledore would owe Harry if this went through.

"Speak, my Heir," the Hat ordered imperiously.

"If I am not mistaken, your Ladyship is against the tasks because of the danger they pose and not the spirit of cooperation itself?"

The hat was silent for a full minute before Hogwarts answered, "Yes. That is true."

"My Lady, in the non-magical world, students across international boundaries compete in what are called Olympiads. There are different competitions related to different subjects such as Mathematics, Physics, Chemistry and Astronomy, that I know of."

The Hat stilled as Hogwarts seemed to ponder over it. "And you propose that this can be adapted for the magical world as a comprehensive test to include all the core subjects?"

"I am, yes. Of course, this should also include duels, a three team Quidditch league and such to improve the inclusivity. As far as I know about the Tournament's history, it is just one Champion per school pitted against the others. This way, the schools can participate and mingle as a whole."

Harry looked to Minerva and Remus who were sitting either side of him questioningly. Remus knew about this part because it had sprung from something he had said weeks before when he had wished that the magical world gave more importance to education beyond OWLs and NEWTs. One thing had led to another which had led to the alternative tasks. Both nodded supportively.

"What say you, Dumbledore?" Hogwarts asked, with more than just a hint of residual anger.

"It is not something I had thought of before, but I believe this could be a wonderful idea," the Headmaster agreed. "In fact, it is more in keeping with what is expected from school students. And ..." he started but then frowned.

"The next words you speak better not be something about tradition," the Hat warned.

"They would have been, but I think I have a way around that. The students may be expected to deal with creatures as per tradition, but not any creatures that they have not already dealt with. Hagrid already is gearing up for introducing the third years to Hippogriffs, so something of that level..."

That proved why Dumbledore was still accepted by the castle as her steward. He was able to politic his way around things if he was able to keep his head. It had just gotten him a reprieve. At the moment he was just tossing ideas aloud.

"...yes. I think that there won't be any more danger to the students than the danger present in Quidditch matches."

"UNACCEPTABLE!" roared Hogwarts.

"But..."

"Are you so far gone Albus that you do not recognise a power far higher than that of any human?" hissed Minerva.

Dumbledore paled. "Yes, Milady. I humbly beg your pardon, Milady," he accepted meekly.

"You shall present this as your idea, and as my will, steward Dumbledore. No creature of any kind shall harm my children in any heaven forsaken competition of bloodlust! And you, my Heir, shall help him in that regards!"

"Yes Milady," both intoned in unison.

"That is one issue resolved to my satisfaction," Hogwarts declared in a smug tone. "I can harbour hope now, that when I find something unsafe for my children to be around, my worries will be resolved well. That is all I have to say at the moment."

"There is still one part of the problem that remains unaddressed," Dumbledore pointed out. "Karkaroff," he replied, when Minerva looked at him questioningly.

Remus chuckled at that. "Do not worry about that, Dumbledore." When the Headmaster, in turn looked at him quizzically, the werewolf replied, "Igor Karkaroff, should have had an accident, just about," he made a show of looking at his watch, "now."

Unlike Hogwarts, who was messing with her boyfriend, Padfoot the Patronus had an infinitely better sense of timing. Of course, that might have had something to do with the mirror Remus had on his person. As if on cue, Padfoot bounded in and spoke in Sirius' voice, "Igor Karkaroff just fell down the stairs and broke his neck."

It was a ploy. Sirius had personally overseen the elimination of both Karkaroff at the hands of the Aurors in Bulgaria. Just a few oiled hands, a little rhetoric against the mutual enemy, and a few very true statistics about the Bulgarians that Riddle, 'the filthy half-blood' had killed were enough to instigate action. Bulgaria was a magically pureblood state, by law and by its magical constitution. They were just the same as Riddle, but didn't need a halfblood lording over them. But that was Bulgaria. The Marauders didn't exactly care for its policies. It wasn't their problem. They had enough of their own.

Albus gulped noisily as he understood the implications. He tottered over to his chair and sat down. They had taken to murder, in a manner. Yet, strictly speaking, it was a crime. He wasn't surprised. Sirius had been a killer, and their little group hadn't exactly cared whose toes they trod on or who got hurt, once they set their minds to something. He never had control over them as children, nor as adults. Now, with the safety of what they held most dear as friends, or even better, brothers, at stake, he certainly had no hope. When Lily had joined them through marriage, he had hoped he would influence them. The opposite had happened, he knew.

Minerva goggled at her deceased godson's brother in all but blood. The Marauders were close, she knew. She didn't think, though, that they would seek out those branded beasts to protect their friend's child, even though she knew that one had been caught as a betrayer and amongst the very same beasts and killed by these people. She approved. She wholeheartedly approved. She knew the DMLE policy – if you are marked, you are already sentenced to death. She hadn't remembered Karkaroff, but they had.

"You are hunting them."

"Yes. People like them don't need redemption. They neither want it nor do they deserve it. Quite like it should have never been for one Severus Snape..." Dumbledore flinched.

The two men had an impromptu staring match. "You mean to kill all the Death Eaters, and then disembody Tom while he is at his weakest to buy time for us to find all Horcruxes. With no marked Death Eater, they can't look for him using the mark. And those are dormant Riddles that shall never come to the fore."

Remus just smiled broadly. It was all Albus' construction, the plan that he was speaking of. Misdirection was a special skill in the Marauders' arsenal. It was true, if one looked at it one way, but they weren't actually doing anything. The Aurors were very happy to see the scum they couldn't touch being executed. At this juncture, trust was immaterial, as was any knowledge that Albus might have. They needed one favour from him, so they would just have to humour him till he did what they wanted him to.

"And it cuts around the problem of extradition," Albus rambled on. "Mercenaries, I take it?"

There was no need to lie about this. "Their Aurors, in fact," the lycanthrope replied. "All they needed was being told that Karkaroff and his mentor, one Gellert Grindelwald, intended to resurrect Karkaroff's master as Grindelwald's successor. They were really angry, you now, about the fact that Grindelwald had the provision to exchange letters from prison. Grindelwald is still alive, but well..." he let that hang to let Albus get to his own conclusions. "Quite like in Sirius' case, they didn't even need solid proof."

Speaking for the first time since entering the office, Harry had something to remind and caution the Headmaster about. "The Unbreakable Vow is still in effect, sir."

Albus needed a bit of time to centre himself. A minute later he said, "Let it be. Let it be." He stared at his fingers for a moment before turning back to Remus. "I take it our Aurors have had a similar disposition."

Remus merely smiled again. Expressions always spoke what the one who saw the expression, the beholder, wanted to hear or thought had heard.

"Astonishing," Albus murmured to himself. "I knew that Love was the power he knew not, and this much familial love..."

Coming to a sudden decision, he retrieved his pensive. "I think it is time," he declared, "for me to tell you what I should have told you two years ago."

It was taking all his willpower for Harry to curb the instinct to laugh. Dear Merlin, but he was using quite the same words he used the first time. Did Dumbledore rehearse dramatic sentences?

"Ah," Remus interjected, "the prophecy." Remus taking the lead was paying off extremely well. There was nobody else who could keep a smiling face that well while simultaneously raging inside.

"You know?"

"Minerva, Augusta, Amelia, Sirius and I know." No need to tell Dumbledore that it was Harry who told them.

"And I assume that therefore so do Harry and Neville?"

"That would be an excellent assumption."

Albus Dumbledore had never been particularly interested in mundane sports apart from tenpin bowling. Had he known more about cricket, though, he would have likened this to facing a fast bowler's spell, peppered with short length balls, facing chin music and bouncers, or being constantly forced onto the backfoot. Wisely, he capitulated and decided to leave the deliveries outside off, instead of losing his wicket.

"That should explain the Death Eater hunt." He nodded to himself. The five had done their best to provide the marked one and the one who could have been marked (and therefore number two or three on Voldemort's hit list) with as even a hand as was possible by taking the Dark Lord's followers permanently out of the game. There was only one way onwards. "I would like to show you my memories of the Horcruxes," he finally decided. "I understand that I can't carry on without help."

"Thank you, Headmaster."

Dumbledore had plans. Of course he still did. But he wasn't hiding things now, he just wanted them done in a specific order that he had decided.

"Remus, Minerva," Dumbledore addressed the two adults, "I wish you to call upon Sirius. I have in my possession some memories which may relate to Tom's Horcruxes."

"Very well," answered Remus. "However, on that account we have something we would like to share with you as well."

"Yes?"

"We fear that Voldemort may have had plans apart from Horcruxes...something that will spell the doom of our world **_if_** he is killed."

Dumbledore's eyes dimmed. "Yes. Tom is diabolical enough to do something of that sort." That he was. Voldemort was as close an approximation of Evil incarnate as it was possible to be.

"We have found a ritual that, if we come into possession of anything that his magic has touched, or a Horcrux, or of the body that Tom is possessing for himself, can drain away all the magic he has cast and still is working. This ritual purifies the magic and spreads it back into Nature through the elements. We think that instead of searching for several Horcruxes, if we find just one, all the Horcruxes will be eliminated in one go, but that is conjecture. There are only four records of the ritual being performed, and none of those who were targeted had made phylacteries."

The old man's eyes regained their sparkle. "Elements..." he murmured. "You would need accomplished elementals then?"

"Yes."

"Interesting..."Dumbledore leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers. "Yes. There are a few I could contact. I have to apologise to those groups of native magic users..." he added with a grimace. "Yes. That can be done. When is this supposed to be performed?"

"Solstice Day," answered Remus.

"I will see what I can do." When Minerva glared at the lack of commitment, he elaborated, "I am going to have to grovel and explain my predicament. The very groups among whom the elementals I hope to ask for the help of live were the ones whom I opposed while I was still the Supreme Mugwump. Some of them I considered friends. I can't commit because I cannot bank on their immediate acceptance."

That was a wrinkle. There was a solution around it, if Dumbledore dilly-dallied in any way, but this was a place where they couldn't exactly fault the man. There was a brief silence as everyone collected their thoughts on the matter.

Harry glanced at his companions, silently asking for permission and when he promptly received their nods, he continued, "Now that we are on the subject of Horcruxes, we have come to the part where we want to report our own findings," he said. 'Report' was a peculiar word, since it put Dumbledore hierarchically at a higher position – but it was used only to butter him up. "Voldemort intended to make thirteen bits of himself – apart from the Dark Marks that is – with one inside of him. He managed eight of the twelve he planned to make."

Dumbledore stilled and turned around, pale with shock as he stared at the three. "How do you know that?"

"We believe it is a side effect of the Prophecy somehow."

"What do you mean?"

"The day when we met you at St. Mungo's, was when Voldemort was forced into a mundane man's body. I saw Avery and Gibbon perform the ritual. It is a link of some sort."

This was not good in the Headmaster's eyes. "Wh-What was your point of view?"

"Third person," replied Harry. "It's just like we see in a memory."

Dumbledore retrieved the same instrument that he had used just after Arthur Weasley's attack. Several of these knick-knacks were his inventions, specifically for Harry. After his return to the castle, he hadn't been able to reactivate them, but he had repaired them all the same.

"I know that you will not appreciate what I shall ask you to do, but still, I want you to assuage this old man's fears. Please place a drop of your blood on this part and fire any spell at this device."

"What –?" started Remus but Dumbledore ignored him.

"Please."

Harry did as he was asked and Dumbledore tapped the device with wand. The device, which had once yielded the image of a splitting snake, now showed the five Patroni that Harry could cast.

"Why is it showing my Patroni?" he asked as Dumbledore heaved a massive sigh of relief.

The Headmaster stared at the five figures for a while before answering, "This is a soul reader. Pardon me, but whatever control I had over myself during the past years drove me to create this slew of devices which were tied your soul by a similar class of spells and enchantments as the one used by healers to detect the soul after Dementor attacks and otherwise to contain them." That was the teacher in him doing the explaining. "Your Patroni, and I am till surprised that you have those many, are just one of the several ways that this device could have interpreted your soul. For example, if the shard of Tom's soul was still stuck to you, it could have shown a snake splitting from something that signified you. At least that was the theory. I have been wrong before. But there is nothing here that shows Voldemort. I am sure of that."

"Um...okay then," Harry replied slightly uncomfortably. Dumbledore nodded absently.

"So how did seeing the ritual progress to finding out about the Horcruxes and their number?"

"Well, the link – or whatever it was – had asserted itself through a ream the first time. I just followed the tingle that was associated with it and kept breaking into Tom's mind. He hasn't been able to detect it yet. Tom has made Horcruxes of his diary, Ravenclaw's Diadem, Hufflepuff's Cup and Harp, Slytherin's Locket, the Peverell Ring which contains the Resurrection Stone, Gryffindor's battlestaff and the Shield he received for the Special Services to the School. The Diary, the Ring, the Diadem and the Shield Horcruxes are gone. Four still remain. Peter however claimed to have held Slytherin's staff and Gryffindor's shield as well." It was important that they mention the two that were extracted from Hogwarts. Who knew what the damned Hat would blurt out?

Dumbledore, who was quickly working up a rant, had it punctured pre-emptively, before he turned pale at the mention of the Stone. "They are gone?" he croaked.

"Yes."

"You have the Resurrection Stone also?"

"Yes."

"So you are the Master of Death?" He was not going to let go of that one. It had been a lifelong obsession for him.

"That is a tale. The objects exist, but on the whole it is just that, a fairytale."

Dumbledore sighed and leaned back into his chair as a tear escaped his eyes. He had had long life with a large part of it spent with that obsession in the background. To find that it amounted to nothing was a blow, never mind the fact that he wasn't the holder of the wand any longer. It was some time before he asked, "What about the rest?"

"Gringotts is on alert for anything they might find in their vaults. They are scouring through the Death Eaters' vaults."

Most of what Dumbledore knew now was obsolete, including his idea about the number. So hiding information from him really wasn't much of a problem. The gesture of giving him just enough information to make it seem like a full disclosure was designed to make the ritual to divest Riddle of his magic and to render all active magic cast by him useless a truly viable option. If even after four Horcruxes (which wasn't true; Dumbledore had not asked and wasn't told about the others except the battlestaff. The information he had been given would seem complete to the old man) had been destroyed, there still remained so much to do, Dumbledore was likely to go for the ritual first and only then try for the other four.

"I am disappointed in you. All of you," he replied bitterly. At their astounded looks of protest he hurried on, and his voice was coloured with irritation as he pointed out, "Don't you understand how much of a risk this was? Couldn't Voldemort have caught you? He could have invaded your mind instead. You would have been compromised!"

Despite his mostly sufficient control, Harry couldn't control his shiver at that. Dumbledore nodded in agreement with himself.

"I took precautions to the effect, Sir. He had no chance to know. I know he didn't because all the pilot readings told me that he was unable to feel it. I only invade his mind once or twice a week and never in a pattern of any sort."

Had either of them thought more, they would have realised that it was too jumbled to describe. On one hand, there was the first person view of whatever Voldemort did while the sliver was still there. That could be explained away by the fact that it was his soul that was the interface, not Harry's. So how did the same link send him into a third person point of view? As a corollary, how did the link switch between the two points of view? But then again, it was magical logic. Nobody had questioned how the person whose memory was being watched was visible in the memory. They wouldn't do so in this unique case either. If this was a story it would have been a massive plot-hole.

"Were there observers? Did you have any of the people around you with you while you invaded his mind? Did you observe any safety protocol? Or were you relying solely on the fact that Tom is not, at the moment, possessing a magical body and _may_ be unable to exercise his abilities in the Mind Arts, something, that apart from Legillimency, a non-magical can perform if taught well?"

This was very odd. In the previous timeline, and even in this one, hitherto, Dumbledore had not _scolded_ Harry. " _It was almost as if he cared_ ," mused Harry, bit cynically. On the other hand, what Dumbledore was saying wasn't wrong, altogether. He had gotten carried away with the success he had achieved, and on the basis of Cassiopeia's support. At that moment though, he looked anywhere but at Dumbledore. The man let the silence stretch. Harry was labouring under teenage and time-travelling hubris (not that Dumbledore **_knew_** conclusively about the latter) on that account.

"Still," continued Dumbledore, "it is fortunate. You have Slytherin's staff and Gryffindor's artefacts in your possession as well."

"What?"

"The oath, my boy," reminded Dumbledore. "The oaths as the Head of House of both Slytherin and Gryffindor called home all articles stolen, didn't they? The two Staves and the shield are already in your possession. It is but a question of where. They may be in the vaults. Or they may be in the homes of the Founders. The underlying point is that you as the Head of House, recalled them, and now they are in your possession.

With all the air of comprehension, the two men replied with a slightly drawn-out "Oooh".

"But that is rather excellent, given the circumstances," the Headmaster conceded. He sighed again (a very peripheral sympathetic thought for his sinuses passed through Remus' mind at that). "While I can hardly fault your eagerness to see Voldemort destroyed, I must ask you to exercise caution, and if possible, have as much support as possible while you do so. At the very least, have a Legillimancer that you can trust in attendance. Should you feel comfortable, I am willing to help. The magic associated with the link is entirely unknown, and may be, as you say, the prophecy's manifestation. It may be exclusive to you. All the same, Legillimancers have been known to lose their way in the subject's thoughts."

A short silence later, the three visitors nodded and thanked him for the advice and the offer. All things said and done, he was a far more accomplished Legillimancer than Neville, who was the only person with the capabilities that Harry implicitly trusted. Therefore the Headmaster was the best bet.

When Dumbledore next spoke, he had changed the subject. "You sent me a letter last night, Harry, asking me, among other things, for the reassignment of Mr. Filch's duties. He has been a part of this castle as much as Hagrid. I must say that I disagree with any plan that takes away his home."

"I have no such intention sir. When I said reassignment, I meant exactly that. I could no more ask to remove Mr. Filch from his home than I could ask for Hagrid to be removed." He retrieved letters from all the pranksters and also from Moony and Sirius and another on behalf of James that the other two Marauders had written. Fred and George were still going to give those letters in person.

Dumbledore read them and smiled. "I understand."

"Well, it actually was a thought from Mr. Filch's course material last year," he admitted sheepishly.

"Ah, that stupidity they sell to squibs to fleece them."

Trying not to show his surprise at the uncharacteristic jibe and bitterness, Harry concurred. "Yes, that. Now Mr. Filch may not be able to cast wand magic, but surely subjects like Runes and engraving, arithmancy and Potions will be within his scope, wouldn't they? Moreover, if Mr. Filch is taught accountancy and hospitality management through non-magical correspondence courses and Open Universities, he will be able to take up more of your and Professor McGonagall's load. We can hire an external auditor to check things up on a quarterly or half-yearly basis."

"Which will be a great help, I am sure," Dumbledore agreed. "What is to be done about his present duties?"

"The school employs several elves, does she not? Instead of having Mr. Filch do it, and instead of having the elves attend the smallest of cleaning jobs the latter could be charged with the larger messes, can they not?"

"Argus will be very happy with this," Dumbledore said happily. He spied a small flicker of a question on Harry's face and understood. "Yes you can be there when we tell him." He felt all the more better when Harry smiled. It also gave him some hope for the next topics of the day.

"As for the other matter, I am rather disheartened by the fact that a former Headmaster of this institution took such a regressive step. On that account, I find myself in complete agreement. I did talk to the officials concerned about it, and pending logistics, I believe Amelia will be in a position to allow her Aurors to help us."

Hermione was going to be very happy. So were several others. After all, mundane parents would see their children's school.

"That is very much a positive step, Albus," commended Minerva. "It will be something that many students will find themselves rejoicing about."

"Now to my concerns about the Hogsmeade trips," Dumbledore started. "Have you made any plans with...?" He left that hanging, but the question was clear. Had he asked anyone out?

"No."

"Do you have any intentions to that end?"

"No."

"What does it matter to you?" Minerva asked bluntly. Had she not just praised him? Was it so necessary to erode any positive feelings so quickly? "Or are you going to control even that part of his life?"

Dumbledore raised his hand in supplication. Minerva had become too confrontational and the reasons were obvious. She had been accepted as one of the family. He tried not to feel bitter about the fact that he wasn't. "I was thinking of deploying him as our second line of security."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

Dumbledore opened a drawer in his desk and retrieved what looked like a little bird. "You know how I have an interest in enchanting, yes? This is a monitoring device. I wouldn't put it past Tom to try and attack a Hogsmeade trip with inferi. These little ones will be the watchers and the school's stone sentinels will be posted in Hogsmeade. I invented them, you could say." He fired a spell at the portrait of Armando Dippet which slid aside to reveal a multi-view monitoring mirror. "I will be able to monitor the position from here." He then winked at Minerva as he reminded her lightly and teasingly, "You always wanted to use the Piertotum Locomotor spell, didn't you?" He just received a nod and even that seemed to be wrenched from the woman.

"You wish for me to burn away all the inferi."

"Yes. That is the best, if not the only way to combat them. And you must agree with me, but you are the biggest available sentient source of fire."

That was true. Against inferi, like against the Dementors, Nightflame indeed was the best bet. Hogwarts sealed the matter when the Hat declared, "The Headmaster has the right of this. It also falls within your duties as the Heir."

Harry agreed, though there was some obvious reluctance. He didn't like anyone else deciding things for him, and that was what Hogwarts had done. But then he couldn't exactly complain, could he? Hogwarts had a very different definition of the word Heir. So long as the person in question bled of the founders' blood, and wore the ring and had the name, and was a student, he was the Heir and was saddled with the duties. And Harry was using the founders' names in the Wizengamot. The school certainly thought that it would be fair.

"Your commands will be obeyed, Milady."

"As would be rightly expected of you," The Hat replied. Dumbledore nodded approvingly. If the school was asserting her authority then it would be foolish to not acknowledge her.

Dumbledore stood up and walked away to the window, and stood facing the grounds one could see through them. "You may have noticed that I called you by your given names. While neither Remus nor Minerva expressly disapproved of it, you did. Yet I do. There are a few things I must come clean on. You see, before your mother died, she left me a letter."

"I know." The thing he blurted out almost made him clamp his mouth, aghast.

"How?" asked Dumbledore. He turned sharply to look at the boy.

It was only the slightest of pauses before he received the answer. "I told you how when you were in St. Mungo's. I don't know what she wrote though." It was spoken only as an assurance and not a question. His mum hadn't told him. It wasn't for him to know. It was a matter between relatives, family or not.

"Ah." He turned to look away again. "I was supposed to raise you, if it ever came to that." Which was not entirely true: she had cast a massive compulsion charm on it to get him to go to Gringotts. There was also a bequest from James for him, personally and a request from a father to be there for their son when he himself couldn't be.

There was a long pause. "I see."

"Which is why I will come straight to the point," Dumbledore said, suddenly all business. "I would like you to live here at Hogwarts with me, at least till such time as Voldemort is alive."

Minerva's eyes flashed as she turned her head to look at Dumbledore so quickly, she was in serious danger of suffering whiplash. "How dare you?" she hissed. "You tore him away from his family once and now when he has regained it, you want to do so again?" Her voice hadn't risen, but it was venomous.

"Calm down, Professor," Remus interjected mildly. "The Headmaster _wants_ Harry to live here. He isn't demanding or ordering that Harry do so, as he very well knows he can't." Remus had slyly added in a not at all gentle reminder of the Headmaster's boundaries. "It is a matter of the summer, isn't it? At the time, Harry will be behind blood wards from both sides of his family, wouldn't he?"

"That is the idea yes," Dumbledore agreed.

"And this is in anticipation of Voldemort's resurrection?"

"Yes."

"THE' WHY CUDNAE HE DO THA' WHEN HARRY WASSA WEE BAIRN? WHY CUDNAE 'E HAE DONE IT THIRTEEN YEARS AGAE WHEN 'E SEN'IM TAE THOSE BEASTS?" she yelled. Minerva's rather tenuous grasp on her temper was really tenuous.

"And with Severus around, and me cursed, how would that have panned out, Minerva?" Albus asked infuriatingly calmly. She couldn't find a good enough response to that. So she just seethed. She hated the man on more than a few occasions these days. Hadn't he hurt them all enough?

Remus moved in to salvage the situation. "Yes. That would be a problem, wouldn't it? And this is necessary as long as Voldemort is around, isn't it?"

"Voldemort and his Death Eaters," Dumbledore amended as he agreed. "Yes."

"Well, on that account, I suppose I have been the bearer of good news. As you now know, apart from the two cronies, Avery and Gibbon, there are no free Death Eaters."

"Yes, but I will feel better for it."

This was such a transparently opaque ploy. On one hand, it may have seemed like a manipulation. On the other hand, it might have only been a man clinging to the last member of his family who would live several years beyond himself. Remus had obviously attempted to buy time.

"Can someone tell me what these blood wards really comprise?" Remus frowned as he felt something odd even as Minerva asked the question. Plus, as he had placed a hand on Harry's forearm, and could already sense the erratic pulse and the fact that the cub was getting colder. And the wolf smelt fear. He already had the mirror switched on. Sirius was witness and though he couldn't sense what Moony could he was pretty sure that things were going wrong. Remus knew what this was. Harry was close to a very bad reaction of some sort.

"Blood magic," Dumbledore replied. "Blood is a component of the ward, which means that the ward anchor, which would be us in this case, would have to want to protect the people living within the abode, or to the very least, not want to harm them."

"Well, I don't see how that would work then," the boy remarked. Minerva turned as she too heard the quaver that his voice contained. "I have...ah...eleven years or so of experience living behind such wards. Forgive me if I say that it doesn't inspire either confidence, security or a feeling of familial connection."

"I am coming over," whispered Sirius. This conversation was going too close to the one his grandfather had had with him and Aunt Dorea. Uncle Charlus had had his back then. The pup needed him now. That conversation had ended with Sirius and Arcturus trading vicious put-downs and insults, including Sirius calling Arcturus an impotent Head of House.

Dumbledore flinched at the reminder, though he never was told in any way about the full extent of baby Harry's sentence with the Dursleys – probably because they believed he knew. Minerva's curse was only a small part of the experience. "I am sorry about that Harry. I cannot express my regret enough. But I can only say that I can strive to be better on that account."

There was very little he could say on that matter that could ever truly mean anything or earn Harry's forgiveness. He could say he was cursed, that he was not in his right mind and then what? Harry wasn't playing the victim, nor was he acting differently about it, though on the whole everything was different. But asking him to trust the same thing again...Dumbledore really hadn't had much hope, beyond his argument regarding security.

"It is a matter of trust, Professor. Every member of the family, especially Sirius, has earned it which is why they live with me." The sudden blandness that the boy introduced to his tone was alarming. " _Occlumency_ ", realised Remus. Sirius needed to get here as fast as he magical-humanly could.

It wasn't the bluntest refusal possible, but it was also true. And then there were the words, "...they live with me." No, Albus realised. He was never going to persuade Harry over that matter.

It was difficult for both, really. Albus, though he was cursed and incognisant of his familial relationship with Lily, still had beheld the baby that James and Lily had shown him in sheer wonder. His cursed state didn't automatically make him a secondary Voldemort and destroy his ability to recognise the beauty of life. That wasn't who Albus Dumbledore was. The intervening years and the horrible influence had taken away from him something that he had lost so many years ago, his brother notwithstanding – family. Knowing that circumstances had made the boy sitting averse to the idea of trusting him didn't necessarily help him either quell the feeling of rejection, or to put things into perspective.

Then again, Harry had to fight with himself to keep a sane head, to not let his heart and immediate emotion elope with his mouth and to be rational. His first instinct was to rant and rave. Why did he care now? Why did he not bother when he was all alone, scared and being beaten up by those horrible people? He had been careful while rebuilding his family. What gave Dumbledore the right to want to intrude now? What gave him the right to run roughshod over his efforts and try to tear him away, again? Where was he all those years ago? Oh yes, he had thrown him away like garbage, hadn't he?

This wasn't anything like Sirius asking Harry to live with him that night they helped him escape. This was an intrusion. This was Dumbledore, fully in control of his self, attempting to do what he had probably wanted been forced to do all those years ago.

Dumbledore seemed to wilt visibly to the other two. Once again, he realised, he was making assumptions. He had several suspicions about certain things, and if he was right about them, then Harry probably didn't think of him as anything better than a Death Eater. He chastised himself mentally for once again thinking about the cause and effect without considering the human component. It was always a not so latent fallacy. The people in The Marauders' Place were the key.

"I – I'll understand that you may take time to trust me enough for this, or may never do so," Dumbledore in a placating manner said. "But perhaps I didn't put it across well. I have no intention of tearing you from the others who are your family, who live with you. All of you would, if you accept this, live at Hogwarts. That way, through Sirius, the castle, and even Minerva on James' side and me on Lily's, the protections will be the strongest imaginable. I promise I will be better than..."

The words went largely unheard. If they saw the disappointment on Dumbledore's face before, they were all now treated to something worse.

 _Why was this man so steadfastly adhering to that?_ It irritated Harry a lot. He didn't want to live inside Hogwarts at all. It would have once been the best idea possible. He had wished for it more than anything before he had come to know about Sirius. What did Dumbledore want? Already he had started remembering terrible things. Vernon started morphing into Dumbledore in many of those memories.

"What's happening to him?" asked the Headmaster in alarm. Minerva summarily ignored him as Harry seemed to shake, while Remus raised a hand to stop him from putting his foot in it further. The old Transfiguration mistress placed a hand on his shoulder, eliciting a violent flinch. It was however, enough to cause him to rejoin them with a very detectable snap.

Visibly centring himself, Harry took several deep breaths. In a voice so thoroughly inflectionless that it could have put an automaton to shame, he replied, "The matter needs to be considered first."

Dumbledore, experienced as he was, saw through the words immediately. It wasn't even a pithy "I will think about it". He had refused, practically.

"However," continued Harry, "in the very same conversation that we spoke of before, my mother reminded me that you were the magical relative on her side she was closest to. My personal doubts aside, I cannot dismiss her request that we at least develop a certain level of familiarity on that account."

Internally he was imagining himself asking his mum, "Happy now?" as sarcastically as possible. He hadn't agreed with her when she had advised that he should do so with the long-term goal of replacing Dumbledore. He honestly didn't care either way. He was in this 'fighting the Dark Wanker' game only for revenge. Thereafter his intention was to put his Houses and of those he considered family in unassailable positions. He had worried enough about others. But then again Luna too had asked something similar of him, hadn't she? That was two of the three most important women in his life giving him such an advice. It couldn't be ignored.

Dumbledore stared at Harry for a moment, before a smile spread across his face. It was a very small concession, but it was enough to start with. It had been something of a New Year's resolution for him, as the muggles said, to try and reconnect with any semblance of family he had left, and to atone for whatever sins as could be ascribed to him. The first among them was the fact that Lily and James' son, who should have been pulling pranks like his father and uncles, giving his mother and Minerva white hair, and all of them a run for their scores. Instead he was fighting a fight that should've never been his. He wasn't even aware that he was shaking his head to clear the cobwebs.

"I understand. Every building is built with the first brick and stone." He shook his head again. "The other day, I realised that none of you have known me as I would have liked to be since 1979. That's a span longer than you have been alive, my boy." He chuckled lightly. Extending his hand out to the three in turn, he said, "Hello! I am Albus Dumbledore. I am currently the Headmaster of Hogwarts, was once the Transfiguration professor and Head of House Gryffindor. I happen to hold Masteries in Transfiguration and Runes with a special interest towards enchanting, and was Nicholas Flamel's apprentice, briefly. I am also known to be somewhat of a politician."

It was rather symbolic of what Dumbledore wanted. He wanted to do better than he had thereunto, and more importantly, wanted to atone. Well, Harry had had the chance to start over. He couldn't he in good conscience deny Dumbledore that, even if he still wouldn't trust the man. But that was alright. He would give him that chance. He was however, still marvelling at the way the man was behaving. He looked around to see Minerva actually smiling. Remus had a look on his face that made it seem that he was remembering something.

"That was how you introduced yourself to me when you told me that I could join as a student!" Remus exclaimed. He shook Dumbledore's hand and replied, "Pleased to meet you, sir. I am Remus Lupin, sir. I am the Defence professor in this school, a werewolf, his Uncle," he added, pointing at Harry, "a prankster, and also hold Mastery in Defence, in no particular order."

Minerva took over seamlessly. "I'm Minerva McGonagall, the current Deputy Headmistress, Head of House Gryffindor, Transfiguration Professor and Mistress. Pleased to meet you, sir," she added primly.

"The honour is all mine, I assure you."

"I'm Harry Potter, third year student." He assumed an awed expression. "What is enchanting, sir?"

"Enchanting is the art and science of creating a magical object out of any object for specialised use. You have heard of machines in the non-magical world? This can be considered something similar, to an extent. You associate magic with an object for long-lasting specific use."

"Will you teach me please?" It was a sudden request.

"Do you want to learn?"

"Yes sir!"

"Then I would be very glad. I'm a teacher after all!"

Harry really was not prepared for this answer. "Can you teach me to turn magic into electricity?"

"I don't know how, but I would like to learn as well. I daresay I have quite some time at hand these days. One is never too old to learn, after all." Turning to Remus, the elder man asked, "Do you think you could join us?"

"Gladly!" answered Remus readily.

"What do you think Harry? After Solstice Day, every Saturday?"

Unsure about how he should react to this sudden perplexing turn of events, he just decided to thank the Headmaster, who smiled happily and genuinely. The real Albus Dumbledore really liked to learn and to teach. It made it difficult to understand him. This was not supposed to happen! This was an unexpected glitch!

Remus frowned as they left. There was nobody but Sirius who could calm the cub down. Shared experiences in different situations was something the two had in common. Where Sirius had the immaturity and therefore the release, however temporary, gained by lashing out at his grandfather, and even Dorea and Charlus (though that was out of fear; Harry had done that with him very slightly), Harry wouldn't and didn't beyond three prickly sentences because it was not was not good for the situation. If Harry had eschewed his nobility for the present behaviour, he had still decided to put the cause before himself. Whatever his age and experience, that wasn't what they wanted for him.

* * *

Dumbledore reached a shaking hand towards the mug on his table, charmed to keep its contents forever warm. His recent expedition through his memories since May truly horrified him. For one, he knew that he had experienced what Harry had. A third person perspective of those memories told him who the perpetrators of violence were – the Dursleys. It answered why Harry – the youngest and the most direct relative he knew to have – was so repulsed by the idea of having an adult family member foisted upon him, as evidenced by the nearly violent reaction the boy had to his request. What had happened in that house?

He needed to find out. He would not descend to becoming the judge and jury, for then he knew that he himself would be the first to be punished. Cursed or not, it was finally his actions that had led to the situation, and that was without considering what happened to Sirius. This New Year's resolution to atone for the past thirteen years could very well be his last, with all that he had to correct!

It would have been a difficult yet straightforward thing to do if that was all, however. He knew for sure that matters were murkier and more terrible than at first glance.

That meeting in St. Mungo's onwards, something had nagged away at Dumbledore. It was a suspicion, and its implications were horrible. It had taken him a better part of the day to recollect every change that had occurred this past year. When juxtaposed with the fact that the subject was thirteen and was exactly who he claimed to be, biologically and magically speaking, he could arrive at only one logical conclusion: Time. Somehow, Harry had come back through time. The direction in which he had forced the changes, the people he had targeted and had had killed, the acquisition of the Elder Wand and the changes in his, Harry's, own behaviour told Dumbledore enough.

He had much time while he was incarcerated by those healers (always made much ado about nothing, that lot)to think. His first instinct was that it might have been on the Goblins' or Sirius' instigation that Harry might have changed that much, but he scraped that immediately. Neither had been in the picture when the first changes had been made. The destruction of the sliver of Voldemort and the effective takedown of the entire Malfoy family was the first. Come to think of it, Harry had probably returned, either by design or by accident while he was in the Chamber. Furthermore, the use of Occlumency, the animagus transformation and the duel against Severus cemented that feeling. It was obvious. No thirteen year old could do that. At least, no mentally thirteen year old could do that.

He was also reasonably sure that Harry had lied about the source of his information regarding the Horcruxes, and it worried him even more that Harry could _**create**_ a false memory. He himself had to have told Harry about them, for now, in Snape's absence, he knew there were very few people h would trust with that knowledge, and all of them were in the know. _Exactly those people he would trust were in the know._ It was also scary that those very people would happily lie to him, either outright or by omission.

Moreover, since his own sources were wrong, the why was answered. The execution of the Death Eaters told him the 'who'. What he still was curious about was 'how' and 'how long'. He could confront the boy, but it would yield little and cause much harm. The still obvious distrust also pointed at how their relation had deteriorated, and it was a carryover. The obvious confusion the boy felt regarding the treatment to be meted out to him told Dumbledore that he hadn't known about the curse in the time he had returned from. It was obvious; sometime in the future he might have attempted to protect the Death Eaters under whatever circumstances, either on his own, or, as was more likely, under unwitting control.

Looking outwards to the grounds, with his late night mug of chocolate, he thought out aloud, "How much devastation did I contribute to in the future, my boy? How far back have you had to come? _How_ did you come back?"

He had to know. He had to. The boy had gone after time, unlike him, Albus Dumbledore, the man obsessed with wrenching his loved ones away from death. Death was permanent. Perhaps time wasn't? The teacher had to learn from the student.

If Harry could tell him, and if he were constrained by his year of birth, Albus was sure that he wouldn't have the problem. Then he would stop Gellert by whatever means. Harry had set the precedent in that as well. Between Ariana and everyone else, and Grindelwald, there was no choice. He could save his sister and parents and his family. He could stop Tom from ever becoming what he did, even dissuading Merope from her course of action. He could save his students, prevent wars and he could...

* * *

*In a real boarding school, irrespective of the level of control exercised, you always find dealers and middlemen for all sorts of stuff. Can one honestly believe that the students were only so out of line as to spuriously acquire *only* alcohol when cursed objects, poisons and such could make their way in?

And yes, Dumbledore does figure it out. Honestly, how can he **_NOT?_** He can't be both a clever manipulator for decades together and also someone who can't understand such sudden madness. It's my pet peeve with all TTFF, just as the term Manipulative Old Fool is. IMHO, 'manipulative' and 'fool' are mutually exclusive terms.


	48. Chapter 48

**Sports and Dangerous Games**

The one thing about Oliver Wood that stood out the most wasn't that he was physically imposing enough to seem large enough to cover all the three hoops behind him. His USP was his Quidditch fanaticism. Even in the previous term, when the season seemed destined for cancellation, he had still worked his team's collective arses off. While most others had grumbled and another team – Ravenclaw – had ridiculed him, Oliver was unperturbed and went about his chosen task with single-minded devotion. After three weeks, both Slytherin and Hufflepuff had followed his example. Ravenclaw had to do the same to even have the hope of not falling behind. They still tarried a week more than both the Snakes and the Badgers.

However, for a person dedicated to making the Quidditch Cup his team's property (finally!), even a day's worth of preparation would be a fine margin. Oliver had utilised the previous term working on plans and training systems he wouldn't have had time to otherwise implement. Chasers were now required to pass the Quaffle more frequently in the immediate vicinity of the hoops instead of their usual build-up play away from goal. The Beaters were split. Fred and George being Gred and Forge, they had honed the sixth sense present in the destructive players on the teams. One was now assigned to protect Wood and Harry and the protector himself, while the other would work with the Chasers. It was a tough task.

The seeker too was drafted in as a marauding Chaser. The Snitch, despite its importance in terms of the result, was something that flitted in and out, with even its relevance fluctuating upon the number of goals the Chasers racked up. Like Viktor Krum had done with the World Cup final that had yet to happen, it could quickly turn the game into an individual game instead of a sport. So Oliver Wood decided to unleash Total Quidditch upon the unsuspecting denizens of Hogwarts. It wasn't a new idea by a long shot, but it hadn't exactly made waves in the school leagues. And Oliver wanted to be the one to successfully use the plan at Hogwarts and get his entire team noticed.

If that wasn't enough, he suddenly had five new players to train. Gryffindor did not have a regular bench squad before the 1993-94 League season. But the extension also gave Wood the chance to rectify that. With the first trials yielding Ritchie Coote (the second year whom Harry had chosen when he became Captain) and Neville as Beaters, and Ron as keeper, he had then chosen Dean Thomas and Demelza Robins as backup Chasers. He had yet to find a second seeker, but the one he had hadn't failed to catch the Snitch yet. All said and done, he was going to leave quite the legacy.

It also helped that the game against Slytherin would see the relatives of all the Gryffindor and Slytherin students. It attached a special importance to the 29th of January. Hogwarts would reopen for the non-magical parents of her students after nearly three centuries. And Oliver Wood would not be found wanting.

Of course, this didn't endear him to his teammates, or rather, his underlings. Being woken at just after five every morning for weather conditioning, with fifteen laps at as near the top speed of the broom the flyer was seated on, followed five running laps around the pitch and warm-up stretches. Wood was just winging it, surely, because there had to be some rule against freezing his players after warming up and then defrosting them again.

"Somewhere in the world, what Wood does, has to be considered as torture," groaned Dean from a shower stall as he sat getting his aching muscles into working condition. Wood had left them to that as he rushed off. He still had to take those NEWTS, unfortunately. What an inconvenience that was!

"It's been three years for us on the team," replied Forge. "Never in those years has his mania gone to such an extent."

"Knowing Oliver, though, he will probably just say, "Score a goal or die trying,"" pointed out Harry. "This is going to get worse."

"My aches have aches!" complained Gred. "A dishrag must feel healthier than I do!"

"Thank heavens he is leaving next year!" called out Coote. "I would have had to rethink trying to join the team otherwise. He wants Neville and me to be at the same instinctual level of in-game mental compatibility as you two do. It is a completely unrealistic expectation based off a singularity that is his sole experience with Beaters he has recruited."

"Merlin; calm it Ritchie! We have been hit by enough bludgers. Keep the word-bombs down, will you?" moaned Neville. "If you don't, you will have Ron asking the meanings!"

Ron retorted with a mighty snore.

"Well it seems that that won't be the case," mumbled Dean. "Oi twins!" he called out. "Wake him will you? We won't carry him back! I haven't got energy to even hold my wand damn it!"

There was a short silence, before everyone else started sniggering. It took a moment for Dean to catch on to the joke cracked at his expense and he started banging his head on the door. This was exactly how rumours started.

* * *

Quite unlike the experience Neville had when he visited Highbury, David and Jean, the parents of a certified bookworm and sport avoider, Hermione Granger, were experiencing the joy of visiting a world that thereunto had been to them forbidden. Sirius had come to fetch them early that morning, and he was experiencing another special moment of being an adult responsible for someone – even if it was just technically so.

The old dog had only seen Harry from the edge of the forest in the previous timeline, having to hide away while still being an escaped inmate. Now, though, he was proudly going to don his scarlet-and-gold ensemble from his time as a Beater. Beat had retrieved it among the many things he had dumped over at the house in Godric's Hollow because he was too lazy to clean up after himself. The Grangers were unsure about being whisked away by a Quidditch Robes-clad Sirius Black, but he was certainly having the time of his life.

They landed at the apparition point just outside Hogsmeade station. It was lined with Aurors. A team had scoured the pitch and the stands the night before and also would do so again just before the Quaffle-toss. Another team was positioned around the entrances. All wizards and witches had to deposit their Wands to this team. The staff members too were screened before they were allowed to take their Wands within the stadium. Each student was required to deposit his or her wand with their respective Head of House.

* * *

Minor flashback

* * *

In most circumstances, there would have been widespread anger against the steps taken to ensure the security for the game. No magical worth their salt and name would allow themselves to be parted from their Wands.

Dumbledore and Amelia, between the two of them, came up with the perfect solution to work around that and ensure security. It was for this reason that the DMLE and Hogwarts had released a notice report in all newspapers inviting parents of the students of the Houses that would play the game. The report doubled up as an invitation card as well. The rules and regulations regarding magical substances and objects, enchanted objects were clearly stated. Only those parents who would send the report with their signatures and a spell cast on the sheet (which was mentioned in the report) were allowed to attend. On arrival and check-in, they had to cast another spell to confirm their identity.

This ensured several things.

For one, there would be no unmarked, hidden malcontents, either among the students or the parents. Since they were essentially asking to be allowed in, they were required to comply and to accept that they had already accepted the rules set by Hogwarts. Any attempt to protest would see them being turned away or be termed as hostiles, depending on the severity of the protests. There was also no chance of an impostor. The security was therefore tight.

The Death Eaters were gone, but there was a leak in the Ministry, in spite of the Oaths. This pointed towards an imperiused member of the Ministry, and probably a high-ranking one, given the fact that sensitive information had been leaked. This was also especially worrying, because this was potentially a powerful magical, and had also somehow come into contact with Avery and Gibbon after the Oaths. More importantly, it meant that the information about this new step forward at Hogwarts would undoubtedly reach Voldemort.

The problem was that they were no closer to finding out the compromised member or members of the Ministry. It was possible that there were some Ministry officials under the control of an intermediary, who may or may not be present at the game. This intermediary would necessarily not be a marked Death Eater, for he or she had to have survived the purge. And as much as they could guess at things, they couldn't randomly set Rita on anyone and everyone and suss out the link. Not everyone was Dolores Umbridge – that woman had stepped on far too many toes. Moreover, Sirius had moved to get the very rule that got her taken down to be used with several checks to ensure that there would be no framing from there onwards.

The other possibility was that someone was under the Imperius. That, of and by itself, was a problem. The wards on The Marauders' Place worked because they had a small, fixed number of people they were keyed with. These were the people the wards checked, and these were also the only people who knew about the secret. A person who wasn't privy to the secret could just as well enter the place and get out without becoming any the wiser about the house or its residents. The only thing a magical person would know was that there was active magic there, but without the secret, there was no point. The residents could already see someone attacking them, so retaliation would be obvious.

As for the wards around the Ministry building, it had about a thousand personnel. It logically followed that there were far too many people to key in and therefore such a powerful ward was nullified by the numbers.

The game would therefore be an ideal opportunity for Voldemort to strike terror in the populace's hearts, given that they knew that he **_would_** get the news about the game, and **_would_** want to retaliate. The more the Aurors were locked up with the game, the lesser would be available if Voldemort did strike. So freeing up more Aurors for the patrol and to attend to diversions if there were attacks elsewhere to divide the forces was absolutely necessary.

Now their job was only ensuring that the rules were followed, that there were no impersonators and that there were no attempts at disruption or harm. The teams tasked with checking the stands and the pitch would remain behind as a general presence and would guard the grounds and the edges of the forest as well as Hogwarts. Moony had already sealed every known secret entrance, passage and whatever else. They didn't need any terrible surprises awaiting them inside the castle post-game.

Thereafter, the team checking the castle would take over from the ones guarding Hogsmeade. Twenty people guarding the village which was bustling in anticipation of the parents going through the village back to the station might have seemed an apathetic response, but for the fact that the major force of the enemy, unless they managed to procure magical creatures on short demand, was brainless and soulless and dead. The Aurors were given strict instructions to use the fire-net spell which was precise and took out small targets as well. It however took a slightly longer time than the average ' ** _Incendio_** ' incantation which started fires. The upside was again that they had several capable people to back them up and the Aurors could hold the inferi till help arrived.

Hogsmeade itself was primed with several protections on the shops. It was about to host what would very well be the first fair in close to two centuries. That was going to be good for business. They were required by the unspoken and unwritten rules of their professions to ensure the safety of those who'd give them money. Times were changing. The Magical World was changing, albeit glacially.

As an aside, there was also a political statement in the entire process. Gawain Robards had taken over Amelia's field duties in light of her pregnancy. He was now the additional Chief of the DMLE. He had been invited to the game as well. Through him, Scrimgeour had sought to make a statement by publicly handing the signed and bespelled cutting of the Prophet.

One Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic, on the other hand, was pointedly ignored. By not inviting him as a dignitary, till after Scrimgeour had practically campaigned by showing the public that the rules were for everyone and one of the front runners for the top job would be no exception, Hogwarts had stopped just short of saying that he was unwelcome. It added to the problems faced by the embattled man. When he did send it in, the response was prompt and positive. That sent the message that to Hogwarts, safety was most important.

All in all, the plan for safety was elaborate and probably even good.

* * *

End Flashback

* * *

Jean drew her cloak closer as she made her way towards the ancient ruin that she knew to be a massive castle in disguise. The village of Hogsmeade was beautiful, and she could already picture teenage liaisons, friends, a general atmosphere of joy and freedom in spite of the slightly terse atmosphere she currently sensed. Things never went off smoothly completely at the first attempt, she knew, so the paranoia, that accompanied the novelty that mundane people like her were being considered by the magicals, didn't seem so out of place.

As they reached the gates, they were required to handle wands. There were no other ways to test non-magicals, so this was what they had to make do with. She saw a few familiar faces. Augusta Longbottom had come with Reginald Dearborn to cheer their grandson, and the latter nodded and exchanged pleasantries with her. It was through her that Hermione was related to the House of Dearborn. A bit further were the Greengrasses. They would be in the opposing stands, with the Slytherins. Lord Greengrass waved to her in recognition and she waved back.

Acceptance was easy for her to find with such steps preceding this most important one.

And then she entered the gates and saw the turrets, the towers and the castle. Her breath was literally stolen away. Envy is a very negative feeling, and mothers generally don't feel that with regards their own progeny, but Jean couldn't help but envy her daughter. She did consider Hermione a princess, and this castle did befit her.

Just outside the stadium, while they stood in a queue she read the security procedures. Hermione had sent home a letter explaining how the security would work in general terms. The Aurors would cast a spell that would work like an airport scanner. Two of the Gryffindor students' parents worked with the Police Department and had agreed to offer their services upon Dumbledore's request. Those with suspicious things on their person would be asked to stand aside where they would undergo another check. These people would be required to deposit the object or leave.

Security, like most other things, was limited only by the imagination (so long as it strode along the path of reality). The people in charge had done a decent job for something that no living person knew much about. They were doing better than they would have a few months ago, she knew. So she just donned the red-and-gold scarf she had bought in the village and watched in amusement as David donned the large lion-head that Luna had made for them.

The day was going to be exciting. She hadn't known that she like many would find herself questioning everything.

The disparity hit the visiting parents almost immediately. The Slytherin stands were only sparsely populated. Sirius, beside whom He and Jean were sitting, told David that miraculously, the present Slytherin team didn't have a member whose immediate family was executed.

Jean winced slightly. This was worse than insulting to some of the students – in particular those who had lost parents to the purge. It would be painful to them. They would never partake of such an occasion. As much as they were murderers, they were still parents. Not being in the know about the Mark's properties, she wondered whether the capital punishment was necessary in every case.

It would be impossible for a day like today to not cause bitterness to fester. She wondered whether Harry had taken that into account when he had pressed for this. Then again he couldn't be expected to think of everything. But the adults were swept by the same wave of change, and none including Sirius, Remus or Amelia had thought of it either. Whatever it was, the damage would be already done.

Every would-be victor made such a mistake. Every would-be victor made his own enemies and fed and watered them with actions such as these. All that she wanted to see Hogwarts, that wish could have waited for a year or more. Hermione had four more years to spend in this place. And they were bringing this upon themselves.

There was nothing, absolutely nothing being done to rehabilitate those Houses which still had Heirs but had lost many of their members. Many didn't know any other way except magic and were now left with nobody else to guide them. An overture by the Goblins would be rebuffed. Any attempts to help by the Neutrals or the Light-sided lot would be seen as attempts to take control of their magics and legacies – not that Jean thought about those things in any of those terms or even in general. But she had, in her training through the NHS, been introduced to various case studies regarding both abused children and also those likely to have criminal tendencies. These were the sort that generally sent youngsters to her as patients.

What was also being ignored was the fact that the Heirs were still for the most part children. Irrespective of them being abusive in nature, racist and whatever else, they were still people who hadn't yet made decisions or mistakes. Every action had several effects down the road. Every death was a just execution for one side and a martyr for the other, just as everyone saw the ones in power as someone to support (no person ever looks at a government as a saviour) or as oppressors depending on their views. Ignoring the recently orphaned children and their needs made them prime candidates ripe for the next Dark Lord to pick, as they harboured resentment. All the new villain would have to do was propagate his or her own agenda and sow the seeds of renewed violence in those fertile minds.

It might have been an oversight but it was necessary to see that the children and Heirs too, were tended to immediately. If this was not nipped now, there would be a revolution down the road, whatever oaths and other stupidity the magicals decided to enforce. Rhetoric that supposedly ensnared the mind and violent action was _Hitler_ 's and _Voldemort_ 's strong suit as well. Neither did turn out to be good people, did they? Every _**r** **evolutionary**_ treads a very thin line which is very, very difficult to not step across. That is the thin line between being a terror, an oppressor, or a true revolutionary,

Then again, the course of history has often been changed by rigid control, fortuitous turn of events, or both, often. Who knew what the future held?

* * *

Lee had obviously decided to step up his commentating skills. The amplification charm, _Sonorus,_ was working in full swing as he announced. "Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, Lords and Ladies, dignitaries and most importantly, parents, to this first game of the 1993-94 Quidditch season. This season's start was delayed by unforeseen circumstance, which is why we find ourselves sitting in this biting cold. Hopefully the excitement that the game will provide will find us all hot-blooded – and not hot-tempered.

"Today, parents of several students have accepted the invitation to see Hogwarts and this game. With that in mind the DMLE has graciously provided logistical and security support. The stands have now been reinforced with several protections. We thank the DMLE for their support. Head Auror Rufus Scrimgeour is present today, and I request Professor McGonagall to present him with a small token of our appreciation. He will also be the one to toss the Quaffle today."

There was applause as Rufus was presented with a small bouquet.

It should've been troubling that Fudge, the Minister, embattled or not, had sent in the signed invitations sheet but had not turned up. Of the four who knew a similar situation that would have happened the following summer, two were swept up in excitement and the other two were in the dressing room. Lee glossed over Fudge's absence, and therefore, for the ex-Beater and proud Godfather, and to the best friend in the stands who was also the excited daughter, no red flags were raised.

"As always, Madam Hooch will reprise her role as the referee to ensure a clean game. Her tireless and often thankless job over the years needs to be recognised." There was a round of applause for her.

"And finally, I present the Slytherin and Gryffindor teams! First off, it's the Snakes! Bletchley, Flint, Montague, Warrington, Derrick, Bole, and making a comeback to the team is one of the finest Seekers Slytherin had...Terrence Higgs!"

There was applause around the place as Lee tried his level best to turn the atmosphere into something more Wembley-like, but his compliment to Higgs actually shocked many.

Their blood prejudice aside, Adrian Pucey (on the bench) and Terrence Higgs were actually talented players. Over the years, Slytherin House had fallen into its present situation because the prejudice was not harshly punished and there was no cavity into which positive incentives for truly good achievements could be given. These two were prime cases of what could have been, seeing as they had already fallen foul of the new rules once. The sanctuary of the bedrooms or common rooms was not truly enough.

"And out here on this day to once again try to win the Cup for the Lions, are, Wood, Johnson, Spinnet, Bell, Weasley, Weasley and, Potter!"

This time, with far more people to cheer them on, the cheer was appropriately louder and more vociferous.

Scrimgeour came onto the pitch to toss the Quaffle, as Flint, the repeating seventh year captain, once again attempted to crush Oliver's hand. The two captains then shook Scrimgeour's hand as well.

"AAAAAAAND THEY ARE OFFF!"

The opening exchanges were tentative, with it being more of an end to end game. It seemed as if the presence of Higgs, though accounted for, was still putting a spoke in the Gryffindor wheel. Higgs, himself a very engrossed Quidditch fanatic, was certainly reading the Gryffindor ploy and had twice snatched the Quaffle from Harry.

It upped the tempo of the game. By the end of the first fifteen minutes, neither side had scored a single goal, nor had either of the seekers had even a glimpse of the Snitch, but Johann Cruyff would have had a high of ecstasy. Harry was truly no match for Higgs as far as being the fourth chaser was concerned. Several times, it was only the Weasleys mopping up with the Bludgers that saved them. It was obvious that the Snakes had prepared as well, and well.

Down in the stands, people were having a massive adrenaline rush as they watched a high-speed, high intensity game. Faster and harder went the players.

"It's Montague who loops over to Warrington, now Flint. Oh, he's sold the Weasleys a dummy n earned a foul! That's a bludger to Warrington who didn't have the quaffle. Gryffindor have so far scored none and Slytherin seem set to take the lead as Warrington, who has an enviable record with penalties, lines up for the shot. AAAND OOOOOOOOOOOOOOH HE MISSES! HE MISSES THE GOAL AFTER WRONG-SIDING OLIVER WOOD, AS HE STRIKES THE METALWORK! GRYFFINDOR MUST BE THANKING THEIR STARS! LUCK DOESN'T HOLD IN THE FACE OF QUALITY FOR LONG! DO THE LIONS HAVE AN ANSWER?"

As it turned out they did. Harry was a pretty poor attacking player, but he had the qualities of a decent destroyer. The Gryffindors, upon Wood's instructions, changed formation from three-and-a-half chasers to two-and-a-half beaters. That freed the twins to take care of Higgs and buy Harry time if he spotted the Snitch first.

"THE PRIDE HAS CHANGED TRACKS NOW, AND THE LIONS ARE GOING BETTER WITH THEIR DEFENCE! Slytherin have possession, and loath as I am to admit it, they are matching decent professional teams today! It's Montague, Flint, back to Montague, Warrington who...OOOH THAT'S A DIVE-BOMBING SNATCH BY POTTER WHO INTERCEPTS! IT'S GRYFFINDOR IN POSSESSION! Spinnet throws it up left field to Bell who snatches it on the rise and passes back to Spinnet who dodges a bludger by Bole, who has to evade retaliatory fire. Spinnet tries to run through, but drops it AND FLINT HAS IT! WEASLEY SHOOTS AND FLINT LOSES POSSESSION TO JOHNSON, WHO TAKES A SHOT FROM OFF FAR and misses." This was accompanied by a loud and protracted "OOOH!" from the crowd.

"Bletchley through to Warrington, Warrington rushes through the field, through to Flint, back to Warrington to Montague, Warrington, and OH! Bell intercepts!"

The passing went on and on. The real surprise though, was Montague. He was as un-Chaser-ish as player as one could get, with a body type and nature more familiarly noted among the Crabbes and Goyles of the world. Yet he was holding his own easily in place of the true playmaker Slytherin had in Adrian Pucey.

"Good heavens! It has been thirty minutes, the longest time without a goal scored in a match in the past five seasons! The match quality is hardly reflected in the score line, folks."

Minerva didn't even have to scold Lee once, apart from the snide 'size' related remark he had made midway through the first five minutes.

"And it is Johnson, Bell, Johnson, Spinnet, OOOH a wonderful pass there by Spinnet to Johnson, Johnson drags Bole and Derrick wide...It's now Bell WHO SCORES! SHE SCORES, SHE SCORES FOR GRYFFINDOR! KATIE BELL SCORES THE FIRST GOAL OF THIS GAME AND THE SEASON AND IT'S TEN-NIL TO THE GRYFFINDORS!"

The cheer was loud enough to cause people to shut their ears.

If at all, the goal spurred both sides further. Higgs, who was periodically rising to hover above the game shunted Montague ahead and slotted in behind the front three in a 2-1-3 outfield formation, with the two Beaters serving as the penultimate line of defence. The pace of the game had ensured that blatant contact fouls were not used, except for the bludgers.

It was amusing for the players in retrospect to see that this ploy of forgetting the damned Snitch actually brought the spectators more into the game. Alicia started playing as the foil to Higgs, while Harry and Fred and George started bouncing through the Slytherin line-up. They were going through with a 2-1-1-2. Derrick and Bole were actually up to the mark and competed fiercely with the twins for Bludger time.

Forty five minutes into the game, the score read 20-10 to Slytherin. There was no real attempt on the snitch by either seeker. For the amount of work the players had put in, there were for the rigid Quidditch rule-abiding fans only three goals to show. The seven Slytherin attempts and the eight by the Gryffindors were true highlights of the game, but then so were three of Oliver's saves and four of Bletchley's, Higgs and Spinnet spraying passes across the field with great finesse, and where the Slytherin attack outnumbered the Gryffindors, the Lions' defence was still better, the numbers notwithstanding.

The true highlight, however, from the eyes of magicals, was in the stands. Across the stands, two sets of supporters were being marshalled by people they wouldn't even have dreamed could partake in such revelry. Septima Vector, Rufus Scrimgeour and Aurora Sinistra in the Slytherin stands were matching Sirius, Remus and David and the non-magical parents' contingent' caterwauling.

"COME ON BOYS! BLOODY SHOW THAT DAMN GREEN AND SILVER STYLE, YOU FLYING SNAKES! THRASH THEM LIONS TILL THEY'RE LEFT WITH NOT PRIDE!" Scrimgeour hollered at the team. Seeing the Chief Auror, who had by then donned the house scarf of his schooldays, propriety be damned, and had transfigured his robes to match, saw the Slytherins shouting out in support of their team as well.

That saw Sirius standing up to his former boss and shouting out, "BLOODY GET THEIR GOATS YOU LOT! SEND THEM SNAKES TO THEIR HIDEY HOLES!" That particular shout was joined soon by the clamour of other shouts that the other parents came up with.

"And it's an hour passed and the score still stands at 20-10 to Slytherin. That's another Gryffindor attack, this time initiated by a Weasley who dispossesses Higgs. Potter catches. Potter to Johnson, Spinnet, Spinnet back dummy drops to Potter who puts it in for Bell. Bell to Johnson, Spinnet; Bell again, Johnson, Spinnet, Bell, Johnson, Spinnet; AND SSSHHHHEEE SCCOOOOREEESSS!"

His further words were drowned by the wave of sound that broke out from the stands. It was just a primal shout of glee, nothing special. But never before had Hogwarts had that atmosphere. Soon enough Sirius was conducting the Gryffindor stands as they sang,

"WHO'S THAT TEAM THEY CALL THE LIONS?

WHO'S THAT TEAM WE ALL ADORE?

THEY'RE THE ONES IN RED AND GOLD

AND THEY'RE WORTH BLOODY SOLID GOLD

AND THEY'RE OUT TO SHOW THE WORLD JUST HOW TO SCOOOOREEE!"

But if that was the Gryffindors' support, the Slytherins struck back immediately.

"Wood releases to Johnson, who slips, OH IT IS FLINT AND HIGGS AND FLINT AGAIN WHO SCORES! THAT'S THE ONE GOAL LEAD BACK TO THE SNAKES! IT IS 30-20, SLYTHERIN!"

He had to stop for a full minute as the Snakes' vocal support went berserk.

"GRYFFINDOR HAD BARELY COME FROM BEHIND AND BROUGHT PARITY WHEN FLINT LAUNCHES A STUNNING COUNTERATTACK AND CAPITALISES ON A MISTAKE BY THE GRYFFINDOR VICE-CAPTAIN. THIS, FOLKS, HAS ALREADY BEEN THE MOST EXCITING GAME OF QUIDDITCH I HAVE SEEN IN THE PAST FIVE YEARS, AND MY HOUSE IS LAGGING DAMN IT!"

"LANGUAGE JORDAN!" scolded McGonagall, but it was pointless when Sirius and Scrimgeour were going at it across the stands.

Montague scored once more, before Angelina and Alicia, the later through a penalty, restored parity in the eighty ninth minute.

"AND WHAT IS THAT? POTTER IS DIVING, BUT THE QUAFFLE...OH THERE'S STILL THE SNITCH...IT SEEMS THAT POTTER HAS SEEN THE SNITCH! IS THIS GAME ABOUT TO END?"

Higgs was now following Harry, having forgotten about the snitch. It was rather unsporting of Harry to go after it, but those were the rules. He went into a straight dive, drawing in his extremities as the stands gasped at the sight of yet another battle between the two seekers. All through the game, the two had been stopping each other from contributing to their team, and now it was a return to Quidditch.

"POTTER AND HIGGS ARE RACING EACH OTHER TO THE GROUND! POTTER IS LEADING AND BLOCKING HIGGS, WHO CAN'T GET PAST HIM WITHOUT GOING OF COURSE! AND, OH DEAR MERLIN, BUT THAT IS A WRONKSI FEINT!"

"How don't you go mad?" Jean shouted at her daughter after the two had with many others shrieked while the Weasleys and Derrick and Bole had sent bludger after bludger at the opposition seeker, each of whom were blurs as they raced to the ground.

"Who said I don't?" she shouted back.

Higgs pulled out of the dive only inches through Harry's tailwind as the Gryffindor shot off from ten feet above the ground to the Slytherin goal where Alicia waited for Angelina to pass. The game of the quaffle was going on there. And then she saw Harry flying almost into the ring and grab something, just as Madam Hooch's shrill whistle signalled the end of the game.

"THAT'S A DRAG FEINT! IT WAS A DISTRACTION FOR HIGGS BEFORE HE ACTUALLY MADE AN ATTEMPT ON THE SNITCH! HIGGS ATE THAT UP AND POTTER GETS THE SNITCH AT NINETY MINUTES! IT'S 190-40, GRYFFINDOR! WHAT A GAME! WHAT A MAGICAL GAME!"

The winded teams landed next to Hooch, and Wood reinitiated the practice of a post-game handshake with the opposition teams. This time, when they muttered, "Good game" to each other, they actually meant it.

And it was at that moment that the alarm sounded around the stadium.

There were whispers of panic and loudly asked questions all around as people in the crowds did what people in crowds do – panicking. It was time for the Headmaster of Hogwarts to assert himself. He amplified his voice and boomed a long, "SILENCE!" And people did go silent.

"DEAR GUESTS, PLEASE CALM DOWN. THERE ARE MANY PROVISIONS FOR YOUR SECURITY, AND PANICKING WILL ONLY SERVE TO BRING THOSE DOWN. PLEASE SIT IN YOUR PLACES WHILE WE TAKE CARE OF THE SITUATION. YOUR PANIC WILL MAKE YOU ALL A DANGER TO YOURSELVES."

The Headmaster didn't know of it of course, but the crowds in the newly reinforced stands were about to start a crushing pressure on the doors. His words reminded people of the disaster at a sporting event that had taken place less than four years ago. Of course, for that event, panic wasn't the trigger.

Harry landed next to Dumbledore as Hogwarts sent him images of inferi being portkeyed en masse on the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest. It was a gray area as far as ward jurisdiction was concerned.

"Sir, it's the inferi!"

"Where?" asked Dumbledore.

"They are being portkeyed in by the boundary between the mountains and the forest."

Scrimgeour and Sirius who had rushed in to help heard that and sported frowns that matched Dumbledore's. "Mass portkeys without the Ministry detectors being triggered?" wondered Scrimgeour aloud. "How can that be unless..."

" _Someone_ with the access has overridden the detectors," completed Sirius.

"Sirius, I require you and Remus to secure the school. Rufus, these two now the passageways better than I do. Please ask the team that will come here to help to coordinate with them."

If Scrimgeour was miffed with Dumbledore about taking over the situation, he did not show it and instead promptly complied. This was not the time for that. As much as he fancied himself as a politician, given his House antecedents, Scrimgeour was still a man who revelled in action and therefore had chosen to be an Auror instead of just a Wizengamot politician. He had been stifled in a job which was still controlled by the Wizengamot in the 1996 of the past. In the here and now, he was worried about his Aurors. That was a particularly good quality for the Head Auror to have.

"Harry, you know what I must ask you to do."

"I can't. They are in among the trees. I can't have that good an aim."

"If we can drive them to open grounds, will it be better?"

"I'll try."

"Good."

Dumbledore called Minerva over and handed over a locket he wore. "I am passing the duties to the Heads of Houses and you for the time being. You can make Portkeys now. Get the castle elves to empty the Great Hall and shift all the effects of the visitors into the castle. Send all the students and the guests by portkey there. Once in, get Peeves to raise the physical defences. Tell him we will have guests for a longer time."

If she found the last instruction to be weird, she did not comment. She hurried off to marshal her colleagues and guide them away.

"HAGRID!" called Dumbledore.

"Yes, Pr'fessor Dumbl'dore sir." He didn't have the charm on today.

"Come with me. There is danger to the forest and we might need the Centaurs' help."

"Yes sir."

It was at that moment that an ethereal Elephant ambled up to Scrimgeour and reported, "Inferi on both sides of The Leaky Cauldron! There're about a hundred of them, all in batches of ten."

"Shite!" swore Scrimgeour. "Dumbledore!" he shouted. "They are too many!"

"Go. I'll handle things here."

"I'll send in the Hogsmeade team."

"Send only half. People will pass through today and Voldemort may bring more of them in there!"

The Head Auror nodded. Technically, Dumbledore was no longer allowed to make Portkeys to the Ministry as he had resigned from his posts. But not a word was spoken as Scrimgeour took a small stone right into the Ministry building.

* * *

"What is going on?" demanded David as he sat with his daughter.

"There must have been an attack," she answered, as she searched desperately for her friends. She spotted Sirius directing the animated statues to various places in the castle as Remus ticked the places off a checklist. The families were all asked to sit in House-wise clusters, so all the Gryffindor families were in huddled together along one side. As more people were being portkeyed in, they were being shepherded to their places. The castle ghosts were assisting the Professors with the roll call. Once a particular House was done, a light would go on to signify that. So far, both Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were bathed in blue and yellow light respectively.

Soon enough the players and the bench were brought in. The Slytherin green and the Gryffindor golden (a red light would have been quite insulting to and unappreciated by the guests) soon went on. Yet, she could see that Harry was absent.

"What's going on?" asked Neville as he settled down beside her and the Weasleys who were sitting close by. He was still in his Quidditch gear. "One moment we were changing in the dressing rooms, and the next we were ordered to Portkey here!"

"There's been an attack. That's all we know. Dad was called in as well, right now. There is another attack on Diagon Alley going on," answered Percy worriedly.

"It's on both sides," answered Sirius, the dog-eared one, as he once again walked in on a conversation. "The inferi were mass deposited by Portkey."

"But aren't mass portkeys regulated? They need special permissions! And Mr. Tonks told me that only someone on the level of the chief of the DMLE, the DoM, or higher, such as the Minister, has the access codes and all the people were oath-bound!" protested Percy.

Sirius surveyed the third Weasley son keenly before answering, "Exactly. One post was and remains beyond all oaths. And some oaths can be overridden in special cases, very, very special cases. That clause is always put in, in all oaths. These are the cases when the violator truly is unable to exert control and may not know that the oath is being violated."

"No!" gasped Hermione. "You mean the Imperius?"

"Oh, if it only were that simple," Sirius remarked bitterly. "No. It may even be something very simple in its execution, but very, very sinister in its effects and implications."

"I don't understand."

"You will soon."

It was at this time that someone else realised Harry's absence. "Where is Harry, Sirius?"

"I don't know. He went with Dumbledore and Hagrid into the forest. Some were portkeyed right between the mountains and the forest."

"He is too young to fight!"

"He's not got a choice, Molly. I am not happy about it, but when he took those titles, these are the duties that came with them," Sirius replied curtly. "I'm sorry, Molly. I am worried and there's nothing I could have said that would have stopped him."

Molly nodded, slightly patronisingly and slightly sympathetically.

It was around that time that a group of Healers from St. Mungo's entered the Hall. Nobody was known to be hurt, so their presence incited confusion instead of just worry. They were soon followed by Harry, Dumbledore and Hagrid. Dumbledore asked Harry something and he motioned to Minerva and then pointed at Sirius, upon which Dumbledore nodded. Sirius moved towards his godson. The Grangers and Neville (Augusta was helping Minerva) were far enough to not intrude, but near enough to be able to make out what they were saying.

"What did the old man say?"

"Scrimgeour has put the whole Ministry building under watch and has disabled all alarms in all other offices. His office is the only point of approach." He looked horribly tired and woebegone. "I am sorry Sirius."

"Nothing's happened yet, has it?"

"No. But I am worried, and I can only imagine what you...? Anyway, Granny Min and Madam Pomfrey are coming with us."

"I just hope that nothing..."

"I swear we're going to hunt them down, Sirius. Whoever did it has less than a day to live."

"Less than that," Sirius growled. He was working on something in his mind and then came up with something utterly brilliant and drastic. "Come. We need to ask your friends for a favour."

"Everyone?" asked Harry,

"Yes."

They were soon joined by the two ladies and the quartet promptly left.

"Did you understand anything at all?" asked Hermione of Neville, who simply shook his head.

* * *

The four landed in Scrimgeour's office, whereupon they were screened thoroughly by the Head Unspeakables.

"Where is she?"

"Calm down Black," snapped Croaker. "She isn't at fault."

"I know that. But she is my priority. The rest of you and your rules can go fuck themselves," Sirius snarled.

"If you don't stay calm, Black you will be a danger to her as well. We have no knowledge of what other problems she might be facing."

"Who did it?"

"It was as expected. He was the only one not bound by Oaths, had the motive and has no alibi."

"He didn't hurt her, did he?"

"No. Your public battles and his nominally present head told him that it would make him easier to implicate. He also couldn't control her all the time. she is far stronger."

"Have you taken him in?"

"No. We felt that it would be prudent to secure his primary victim before he has the chance to harm her."

"I am still going to kill him."

"You can do that, legally. Right now, keep your head calm, Padfoot!" scolded Harry. Sirius was once again behaving as he did in 1981, except this time, it was of his own accord.

Their first destination was the office of the person they cared for, who hadn't come today as the protections needed coordination, and had somehow been used.

Minerva went in first. It had been decided that she would lure their target out of the comfort zone.

"AMELIA!" she screamed as she burst into the room "IT'S SIRIUS! HE'S HURT!"

Her panic almost seemed like a living, breathing thing to Amelia, who stood up in shock and followed Minerva without question. She had barely made it out of the door when Poppy crept up to her and placed her under the sleeping spell. Sirius and Harry caught her before she could collapse and laid her on a floating stretcher that Minerva had conjured.

"It's the Imperius," declared Poppy. "She was trying to fight her, but the hormones and her state is not helping her Occlumency."

Sirius swore sulphurously. They had to take her back first to the only known safe place in the Ministry, where the Hogwarts healer related her diagnosis to the acting chief of the DMLE, Gawain Robards, who had just joined Croaker and Scrimgeour. This was a horrible situation. Amelia was compromised and the only way to save her was to declare their situation.

"That explains how _he_ was able to get one over her," muttered Rufus. Once Amelia and Sirius' relationship had been formally declared, it was obvious that she didn't have political ambitions as far as being Minister went. Now he was worried about the woman he had helped train. He would cringe later for even thinking of that in that situation.

"Lord Black, you must understand that it is the only solution available. The public would roast her otherwise. This way the sympathy will be with her, and the fact that she was able to resist the curse and get more Death Eaters executed in her state will earn her backers."

"That is all good and well. That compromises her and our baby's safety, Robards. We have seen that she wasn't safe within the Ministry!"

"Well, that won't reflect on her. She was betrayed by someone everyone was supposed to trust, in theory."

"Aren't you listening? They came after her here! I am not declaring it for the rest of the world to target my wife and our baby!"

"Sirius," reprimanded Minerva as the man seemed set to lose his head completely. She forced him down in another chair that she conjured. "Listen now. She is almost two months along. In another month she will start showing. You won't be able to hide then anyway. Declaring the situation now will save her reputation, her career and her House. Don't think with a one-track mind!"

Meanwhile Croaker performed a cursory check on Amelia's wands. He was able to read for about a month. "She didn't enchant the memories," he declared shortly, "but she did disable the alarms, even the ones for the Unforgivables, damn it. She has also copied a list which I'd charmed myself."

"Oh Merlin!" moaned Rufus. "That means there is someone else doing the enchanting!"

"That makes no sense, Rufus. That enchanting was not the job of one person. It would've taken way too much power. Someone has thrown their weight around or called in some favours owed. It was a professional job. Worse still, it leads us to the person who did it. All Pensieves are registered with my department. We also get a vault inventory of those things from Gringotts. And there are only two other persons who could have pulled that information. One used the other to cover his tracks."

"The Minister," intoned Scrimgeour, Sirius, Robards and Minerva in unison.

"He is the traitor," hissed Poppy angrily.

"Indeed he is."

"What do we do now?"

"Put the Ministry in lockdown. How many people did we lose today?"

"Three Aurors in Diagon Alley," replied Robards. "Samantha Atherton, Wallace Williams, Emma Daniels," he read their names. "Emma was due to retire next month." The mood took a definite downturn. "Up by Hogwarts we have minor injuries. Hogwarts helped massively. That reminds me, where's the Potter boy?"

"Here, Mr. Robards," Harry answered. He was standing, wand raised, by Amelia's side.

"Excellent flying, my Lord," he complimented. "I hear it was the same in the game. Thanks for your help up by Hogwarts."

"Thank you, and please, sir, it was my duty. I only wish my flying was under better circumstances."

"Don't we all?"

* * *

That evening, events were put into motion inside Gringotts which would have massive repercussions on the magical world. Hightab received a memory from Harry along with a letter that stated the exact implications of the attack on Amelia and her inadvertent aid to the Inferi attacks. Sirius had finally been convinced to go through with the declaration, which now made it an attack on the Garnarukran's favoured Ambassador to the wizards as well as on one of their own.

Over the next two weeks, there was a general paucity of funds for certain individuals as the Goblins quietly conducted their own inquiries and set Rita Skeeter on a massive hunt. By the time the declaration went through, they were ready to completely dismantle the magical economy if need be.

Of course, since these reports were shared with the DMLE through Sirius, they found it rather easy to crack down on the Borgin, Scales and Burke families. The absence of their shop had put them out of people's minds, but their motive was clear. An entire team of mercenary enchanters was arrested with them. It was, in retrospect, astounding that they hadn't even been suspected or interrogated as soon as memory attack took place.

Thankfully, Amelia was under only the Imperius Curse. She had been cursed two days after the Party for the first time, and had lost it when she came home. Not knowing who cast it, she could only try and catch someone red-handed. What was perplexing was the fact that she hadn't confided in even Sirius. She had also been cursed that very morning.

Fudge was arrested publicly the day of the declaration. His statement was rather alarming, and showed him to be a rather demented person. "I walked in on the bitch sleeping in the lounge. There are never any alarms in the lounge. I took the chance. All I had to do was cast it again. I've to give her that. She is a strong witch. She and Black and that boy tried to destroy my life. I just paid them back.

"Avery had said that his Lord would allow me to be the Minister forever. Black, Potter and Bones had me almost out of office as a late Yule gift. I had to pay her back, didn't I?"

Dumbledore had used the incident to illustrate the depravity of Voldemort and of Fudge. Pointing out that neither spared even the purebloods made people start questioning. The unease that gripped the society was now reaching full-blown, and very much require, paranoia. None of the dissenting unmarked purebloods had any arguments left when they saw how Voldemort was willing to kill even their children.

* * *

"James, we just can't wait anymore."

"I understand Padfoot."

"There must be another day, a closer day than the Equinox."

"I told you that in theory any day of the time between the Winter solstice and Summer solstice would do, but the Equinox will work the best. There is the Imbolc, Padfoot, but it just doesn't signify as much as the Equinox."

"Damn it Prongs! We are just waiting and waiting for that bloody damned Equinox! I have to worry that they might attack again!"

"Sirius," Lily intoned, "there is a way for you to force Riddle's hand. Dumbledore's theory that those last two Horcruxes are in your possession is sound. Search for them now. And display those lost artefacts by mid-February. Make sure that you mention that they still carry a taint of Darkness and that the Houses of Gryffindor and Slytherin are trying to divest them of that darkness."

"That's still longer than I am willing to wait!"

"But that is your only true option. Patience, Padfoot," she counselled. "Have patience and persevere. The end is in sight."

* * *

It will be a more important chapter that will follow as Dolohov becomes Voldemort and there are some awkwardly happy accidents.

 **And please, do check out the other stories. Most were started by Harmonious and are being written by various people.**


	49. Chapter 49

**Discovering Harmony**

A/N: ' **Centaurious** ' is a seer. I don't know whether he or she is reading the story anymore, but I just thought that you all should know that there is a regular Trelawney amongst the fan-fiction-dot-net members.

A/N 2: Here onwards the chapters will be shorter. And there is a cliché in this, just not related to HP fandom. For those who get bored because this story moves off the track quite a lot, there are 2 or 3 chapters left of this story in all, including a twisted epilogue. This chapter gave me problems because the original story had Marlene McKinnon actually contributing, but it didn't really mean much to me. I personally didn't like the character. So I shunted her out.

Hoping this chapter helps this story get to the half-a-million hits number. Thanks to all the readers, followers, favouriteers, reviewers.

* * *

"Amy?" called Sirius weakly. Amelia turned to stare at Sirius.

She had been doing that a lot lately. The first week after the attack had been horrible, and both Susan and Harry had come home to Marauders' Place to help out over the weekend, but also mostly to be with Amelia. She would burst into sudden rages and fits of tears and then she'd clutch desperately at Susan. She had also not left the house at all, the security of the wards being the only thing that kept her from panicking. Sirius therefore took to taking long walks around the place with her. She needed the sun at least. He needed her happy and well. He remembered being in such a situation not long ago.

Her greatest fear, that she'd be used to hurt Susan had been realised. She had also been used to compromise her job. Her life had been compromised. And her _baby_ had been compromised. She seemed lost in a way nothing could heal. Her ambitions, her ability and her job, everything had been besmirched by the incident, though the public sympathies were with her. That she was able to fight in her state had got 'The Magic of Facts' calling her a " _warrior, mother and witch of capability betrayed by a person we were all supposed to trust_ ". She had been sent letters by several women who had sympathised with her situation. Yet, she seemed lesser and lesser like the Amelia he knew. And Sirius had had enough of it.

So he had consulted three people he trusted to help him. Well there were quite a few more, including a couple of non-magicals, but at the moment he needed the help of those that remained of the Marauders. Lily had not even spent a minute to think about it before giving Sirius permission to tell Amelia about them. James and Remus, though, had suggested caution. The baby was at stake, and Amelia was still in a bad state. There was no need to add shock to that. Of course, since they were now situated at the Potter ancestral home, they no longer needed Harry to open the case for them.

"Now remember, Amy, things are not as straightforward as they seem okay? There's an explanation for what I am going to show you, and I am not going to shock you. So please, just listen, okay?"

"Are you going to leave me here?" Amelia asked with a renewed stream of tears. "You are ashamed of me, aren't you?"

Sirius looked at her dumbfounded. "What? No. No, no, no, no. I am absolutely not leaving you here. Look, you have been so out of sorts that I am worried for you and our baby. I just thought that meeting some old friends would probably make you happy, or at least less sad." When Amelia just nodded morosely, Sirius huffed. "Look, Amy, I love you, okay? I love you so much that your state is hurting me as well, because I don't know how to make you happy again."

If this was supposed to reassure Amelia, it failed abjectly. "So that's why we aren't married yet. I know you think that I'll be a poor wife."

"But we are only getting married on the Sunday two weeks after the Equinox," Sirius reminded her, now even more flummoxed. "Didn't we plan it? I know we have!"

"Oh." Then she smiled tremulously. "I am sorry. It's just getting to me. The attacks, the baby and everything else; I am scared."

Sirius found himself loving her a bit even more. Amelia was a very strong, independent woman, and for her to admit that she was scared, an impulse driven out of her due to the demands of her job, took a lot. But her happiness and sorrows, her joys, laughter, and her fears and anger and her vulnerabilities and her strengths...she was all his. He kissed her passionately.

"I know. That is why, since we know nobody else who was in our position, and who are our friends, I took Harry's and these people's permission for you to meet them."

"Permission?" she asked.

"Yes. It's difficult to explain. I am not sure I have understood everything, so I don't want to tell you something wrong," he ended lamely. "It's related to family magic. It is not necromancy; well at least by intent it isn't."

Amelia's curiosity was now peaked by this. Sirius was giving her too many qualifiers. She didn't need to ask whose family magic it was. They were standing in Potter Manor. It just didn't go together, Potters and necromancy. And there were really only two people she could think of who would put Sirius in such a state. And she really wasn't sure that she very much liked the implication.

"And I know that I am doing a piss poor job of explaining things, please take this calming draught."

"You need to explain what is going on, Siri." Her stern voice was back and Sirius was hard-pressed to withhold his smile.

"Please Amelia," he begged. "I'll do that thing to you like Padfoot with a water dish if you agree. We haven't done anything like that in days. Please?"

Her brows furrowed in consternation, even as she fought the blush as he reminded her of one of their favourite joint activities. "This better be good," she warned. He rejoiced as she took the potion without too much apprehension. She was starting to be normal for little bits of time at least.

"Even if you don't like it completely, it will be good later," he promised cheekily.

"Oh, you're incorrigible!" she replied. Of course it turned into a flat statement under the potion's effect, so that it seemed to hold all the gravity of emotion required while telling Sirius that his hair was black.

"May I call them?" Amelia noted that Sirius seemed about as eager to show her whoever it was as a kid was eager about a new broom.

"Yes."

Sirius promptly transformed into Padfoot and barked loudly.

"Oh, look what the dog brought in!" Lily said as she 'walked' into the room (looking not a day over twenty one to Amelia who had gripped her chair's armrests tightly) as drily as she possibly could. "There; are you happy now, Sirius? I really don't understand your strange fetishes." She then smiled at Amelia. "Hello Amy, it's nice to meet you again."

James was far less sedate as he 'walked' into the room as well. "Hi Amy!" he greeted brightly. "Your sprog is going to be the first kid that has a bodiless person as a godfather! Unless, of course, Padfoot chooses someone else, that is," he temporised as she looked close to fainting.

Amelia just stared at the duo as they joined them and sat on the nearby chairs. There were depressions, she observed, as the two translucent beings sat on the cushioned chairs.

"Just what...?"

"We are semi-alive, we aren't completely dead, we have a reverse of the Horcrux ritual that we used, we have a way to destroy Voldemort but it will practically only work on the Equinox, we are very happy to meet you again, we are doubly happy about your happy news and thank you for helping Harry." Obviously James thought that stripping the plaster off quickly was the right thing to do.

Amelia opened her mouth once, twice and then shook her head experimentally.

"Put her under a sleep spell Sirius. She seems close to fainting."

"Oh." That wasn't supposed to happen. He had given her the calming draught!

They waited for nearly ten minutes, after which Lily asked Sirius to cast some diagnostic spells on Amelia, which would monitor her blood pressure and heart rate and stuff. It was one of those things that all Unspeakables were taught. Nobody knew when accidents would happen, and these were immediately important checks.

"Sirius," Amelia nervously said as she woke up, "I had the strangest dream. Lily and James were somewhat alive and talking!"

"Wow, Amy," ribbed James, "didn't think you would dream about me instead of Padfoot!"

"If you could transform and be somewhat material, you'd have a hound on your trail, Prongsie."

James stuck his tongue out at his friend.

Amelia blinked stupidly. "You go to such lengths as creating illusions of James and Lily just for a prank?"

James sighed, though as no actual air passed, it was noiseless. He pushed a hand through Amelia's shoulder. "We are like, but aren't, ghosts, Amy. This was one of the things we had put up as plan B's and such so that what happened to Sirius wouldn't have happened. However, since nobody knew in the last time and even till a month ago, we were locked up."

Amelia took one deep breath, and then another and then yet another.

"Look Amy, I just thought you'd feel better if you could talk to some friends," Sirius beseeched.

"I am. I am just trying not to bawl and rant and crush them in hugs," she replied flatly.

"Well you could try," James replied gravely, "but you could never crush my spirit!"

"Dear lord, he is back to making hideous puns," murmured Amelia.

James grinned toothily at her.

"And think, I actually married him," Lily pointed out.

"It's your own fault," Amelia retorted simply.

And just like that, Sirius knew that his wife-to-be would soon be alright.

* * *

Having already been connected to all the homes that Harry possessed, Sirius had a lot to do during the first week of February. Barring the Slytherin home, which he couldn't get into alone because it needed a bloody hiss as a doorbell, He had surveyed every place to find out the last, elusive Horcruxes, which were the Founders' artefacts.

The problem was that he did not know what he was looking for, exactly. Gryffindor had a Staff, which was wonderful, but the Gryffindor had many Staves because he was learning wandlore, core-lore and other allied subjects for his calculations. Harry had only told him that he knew about a Staff, not which one. So he set about gathering every Staff and magical artefact he could find there with Kreacher's and Winky's help till Kreacher screamed that one of the Staves felt like the locket of Master Regulus. The terror that the elf felt by handling the object overrode the Orders to forget about all his previous Masters and their orders. It was also there that they found Gryffindor's shield. Sirius surmised that the Founders didn't truly trust the Goblins –not that he himself did so much, though his outlook was changing.

They couldn't leave the battlestaff there, really, and they needed Harry to be present to be able to open the room. So Sirius completely evacuated the Marauders' Place of its residents and gave the Grangers, the Tonkses and everyone else portkeys to Potter Manor, before putting the Marauders' Place under lockdown and several stasis charms. Come equinox, he would probably have Amelia move to Grimmauld Place or the Ossuary. He wouldn't have Voldemort and her in the same room at any cost.

He was rather surprised that they had not realised how dangerous it all was. The things had shown a level of sentience and they had so many of those – the locket, the diadem, the ring, the harp, the battlestaff and the shield there – in that room that it was a surprise that there had not been an adverse interaction and reaction in some way.

The Staff of Slytherin had to be found, and the fact that both of Gryffindor's artefacts had been found at the Lion's Den, pointed at the other objects also turning up inside the other Founders' homes – in this case the Herpetarium, which was inaccessible without Harry. As he had realised before, Salazar wasn't a blood snob, but he was a language snob alright. Amelia indeed had come up with the simplest idea – enchant a memory of Harry opening the Herpetarium or have him speak through the mirror without its privacy mode on.

This time he didn't even bother to have Kreacher forget the feeling. They wanted it done fast. He would overpay for cleansing rituals for the Marauders' Place later, if he had to, but now he had them all with him. People often thought that it was only visible action that brought results. They couldn't be farther from the truth. The less visible the actions, the easier the work went through and the more efficient it was.

This last collecting spree freed Sirius to think over the latest problem he knew lurked. It was a problem that Harry had not seen, or if he had, was ignoring. He hoped that it was out of some sort of hope, or perhaps a wish to not distrust everyone completely. He couldn't say either way for sure of course. But for his own mental relief and satisfaction, Sirius needed to take some action that was decisive or divisive or both. There was one group of people that was being ignored and he feared them now.

Sirius feared the Order.

So he did what he did more and more often these days.

" _You really fear them, don't you, Sirius?" Lily asked._

"I do, Lils. When you left him for me as my godpup, one of the important things that I was supposed to do was keep away any danger I could see."

" _Wouldn't muzzling Dumbledore..._?"

"I doubt it. There are people who have been in the Order as long as Dumbledore has been; people like Doge who was a co-founder, people like Mad-Eye. I don't trust them. The thing is that I am very sure that the end of Voldemort is but one part of a larger plan to wrest control of Magical England. And I am not sure there is any reason why Harry shouldn't do so. I doubt there will be other people willing to embrace the change. So long as the 'light' got what it wanted without dirtying its hands, Harry would remain a Hero. After that, they will work to label him as a Dark Lord, especially one who subjugated Dumbledore."

" _And you are attempting to take the entire economy over, aren't you? Doesn't that defeat their resources?_ "

"From what I know of Scrimgeour, he was susceptible to poor decisions. We don't know all of his supporters. They mightn't even need to make him out as a Dark Lord. There could be lots of tricks..."

" _Are you sure you aren't getting paranoid?_ "

"I hardly trust anyone outside the family these days, much less anyone associated with Dumbledore."

" _I thought you'd buried the hatchet?_ " enquired Lily.

"That is not equivalent to trusting him Lils. You know that."

The woman paced a fair bit. It was her habit, one that her son unknowingly emulated. For some it was irritating. For the walker it was as if the constant back and forth provided different perspectives to the mind all on its own.

" _How permanent a solution are you looking for?_ "

"I am not inclined to hurt them, if that's what you're asking. But I need a strong enough deterrent."

" _Then an unsavoury little solution wouldn't exactly trouble you._ "

"Not in the least," answered Sirius firmly.

" _Do the Gob– the Garnarukran check the lists you give to Skeeter?_ " asked Lily/

"I have no idea. I suppose they do, since they use it for aiding investigations."

" _Mum's diaries!_ " answered James. " _Use that information and extract as much as you can from as many Order members as you can._ "

"That...might work," agreed Sirius musingly. "Aunt Dorea and her mum could've made a career out of it."

" _Of course they could have. How else do you think she worked around several potential suitors among the Notts and Selwyns and others of the world? Commodus Nott and Marcellus Selwyn even fought a duel over her._ "

Sirius visibly shuddered at the very idea of his beloved great-aunt bearing any name but that of the Potters. It was bloody wrong in every damn way. "Thanks Prongs. Now you have given me more nightmare material."

" _I try,_ " James replied with a grin.

" _Must you two always have any conversation devolve into tomfoolery?_ " the irritated woman-spirit asked.

She received a pair of grins and a resounding "YES!" as the answer, causing her to roll her eyes.

* * *

Hermione was languishing in restlessness all over again. Ever since the Christmas (or Yule or whatever else they'd choose to call it) holidays, she had been feeling completely out of sorts with regards to her treatment of her best friend over the previous term. They had fought quite a lot, and at one time she had feared that they mightn't even remain friends with the way things were going.

Being nearly a whole year older than Harry, she always tended to think – subconsciously – that she knew better, in general. So whenever Harry did things without giving it enough thought as he **_was_** wont to do from time to time, she felt it her personal duty to correct him. Part of it was due to worry. Part of it was due to her firm belief that she knew better. Somehow, unconsciously, that particular trait asserted itself at the most inopportune times. It was the role she had accepted, and eventually owned in his life till then.

So she had taken to opposing everything he decided for the most part. Death Eaters have to be put down? "Killing is not good Harry!" It had grated on her nerves as well. Not that it was good, but she had overplayed the Devil's Advocate role. She had seen in his memories how much Harry regretted choosing Ron's side over a broomstick and a rat. And now, when the stakes were raised to questions of life and death, he had chosen her – **_her_**. And she had been too stupid, too childish, and too convinced of her own wisdom to realise that. Harry had shown her that he would choose her, that he would choose her no matter what. And she had reacted poorly.

And she knew why.

Being right always, as far as Harry was concerned was her security blanket, a la Linus van Pelt. So long as she was right, Harry had a reason to have her around, to be her friend. As much as helping him, correcting him was something that she thought to be her strength, it also had the lingering touch of familiarity of her pre-tween years, bundled together with the things that appealed to her sense of adventure which had put her into Gryffindor ahead of both Slytherin (which was out of question for obvious reasons) and Ravenclaw, and the security of having a person to trust and be trusted by, scold, laugh with and at, blame, be blamed by, protect and be protected by, for her to have power over him and for him to have power over her.

It struck her that Sirius', and Amelia's, Remus' and for a part even the four Garnarukran and the Lord-Director's as well, presence had filled the holes in Harry's life left by the deaths of James and Lily. They were people he trusted to give him sound advice to correct him and to be sounding boards. Not that he didn't trust her for that, but the Harry of her first two years would trust only **_her_** judgement, and would, apart from the schoolboy trust on his Headmaster, turn only to her, and accept her word as **_the_** thing to do. It gave her a sense of power – a sense that she realised was eerily similar to Molly Weasley's attempt to claim him as one of her own, and therefore the slight resentment that the Weasley matron had harboured against the adults in Harry's life. Perhaps the Hat's assessment of her Slytherin side was not off the mark, after all. Several people wanted power over Harry, and somehow, finding that she too was one of them was a scary, confusing and humbling experience.

The bottom line, though, was that no outbreak of a revolution against the new controller had taken place. There was no doomsday. It was that Harry was happy with how things had now panned out. It made her happy. It always did, seeing Harry being happy. Not only because he tended to share it around, but because she genuinely, truly liked Harry being happy. A large part of it was the family that lived in that madhouse. Begrudging them usurping a part of her place was begrudging Harry's happiness, and that was one thing she'd never do. But she wanted to be the reason for it too. And she had ended up doing everything to the contrary.

Through all those upheavals, their roles had changed, because the prat had the sheer temerity to go and change what he was altogether, by whatever means. And she realised that he still remained her friend, allowing her all her quibbles, all her anger, teenage angst, and everything else, while still dealing with the same as far as he himself was concerned. He had been very patient – as much as he could be, anyway – and had explained, guided her till she realised where things were going. He had remained loyal to the Hermione he had known, to the Hermione he knew she could have been and could yet be. He had remained hers in that aspect.

And that was the crux of the matter. He was _her_ Harry, the Harry of the Hermione Granger who had been the centre of his life, as he had been _hers_. He was no longer the Harry of the Hermione Granger who lived. Harry was a fantastically loyal person she knew. And that loyalty was driving him to do everything to ensure that she wouldn't be the Hermione forged in the crucible of a war, thereby making her someone who wasn't _his_ Hermione. _His_ Hermione had been accepting – she had been a thinking woman, and had largely chosen to know before passing her judgement. _She_ had not been small-minded as _her_ younger self had been.

It was driving her to madness.

She was even more attracted to Harry now, but she also realised that the attraction on both their parts was not yet something to act upon. She had to grow up a bit. And she had to help Harry realise that in spite of his attempts at dissociating from the other timeline, perhaps he wasn't as successful as he needed to be. If they were to be something more, it had to be between the people they were now. It was ironic that he had realised it and had helped her realise it and yet was making the same mistake.

She released an explosive sigh. She had to ensure that she became _her_ in essence, but retained her own self enough to be the best, happiest, and the most successful Hermione Granger she could be. It was difficult to live in the shadow of somebody she could be, and somebody whose image was projected upon her.

Most importantly, though, she needed to be her best friend's best friend again. And that was her New Year's Resolution.

Sleep still eluded her, and she got to her feet with a huff. Pulling on her dressing gown, she strode down the stairs on light feet, a book in her hand. She hadn't expected someone else to be awake at two a.m.

It was the last person she wanted to encounter given her musings. Harry had developed the highly irritating habit of pacing. More often than not, he relieved his nervous energy by pacing miles upon miles on the grounds, in the passages or in the common room. In such moments, he was often no longer truly cognisant of his surroundings.

She crept aside and sat down on a chair close enough to observe, but far enough to be unobtrusive. She was in for a shock. Harry was not thinking. He was fighting with someone on the mirror. Obviously it was Sirius. Displaying what some would call curiosity and others would call being a busybody, she took a seat closer to Harry's.

"You want to keep those accursed things in public view so that he can try and steal them and we catch him? The bloody Philosopher's Stone rings a bell?"

There was a louder than usual response.

"I don't care," the boy hissed. "I don't care what they say and I don't care what you say. I won't allow you to do it. Why don't you get it? We are waiting because unable to actually pursue Voldemort! If it was that easy I'd have flown in to wherever the effing hell he is, burnt Avery and Gibbon to crisps, and brought him here for the ritual!"

Sirius' response was not quite audible and was only garbled enough for Hermione to know he was replying.

"NO. How dare you play Dumbledore with that kid? How dare you?"

Hermione was shocked to hear him slip into a half-roar, half-hiss as he asked the question, rendering it unintelligible. She was sure that Sirius hadn't understood the question either and had asked Harry to repeat which he did after a very deep breath and with a visible and audible attempt at keeping his voice even. The question caused Hermione to cringe. Sirius must also have had a similar reaction for he did not answer.

"I have no right to say this, I know. But this makes that baby more of a target."

This never failed to get results. This was Harry twisting Sirius with the "I-know-that-I-will-always-be-an outsider," sort of line. Not that he used it much, but when he did, it was as if Amelia had given him tips about manipulating Sirius. And Amelia was Sirius' wife. He twisted it in further.

"I've lost Teddy, Sirius. I don't want that to happen again."

That had Sirius crumbling, certainly, for he spoke something, to which Harry nodded with a genuinely accepting expression, before Harry switched the mirror off. Then he let off a string of obscenities, kicked a chair in anger, sang "She wore a Yellow Ribbon in the Merry Month of May" (completely off-key, of course) before he rushed up the stairs and returned with a suitcase.

Hermione had long abandoned her book to now observe her best friend as he went about whatever he was doing. To her surprise, the suitcase contained what looked like toys. There were also books which seemed the size of toy books. Out came, a small contraption, about the size of his palm, consisting of two bars perpendicular to each other. The arrangement rather reminded of a very, very small burette holder.

It was when he expanded it that Hermione nearly gasped. It was a machine of some sort, and her first instinct was to call it a Heath Robinson machine.

"I know you are here, whoever you are," Harry spoke into the dim darkness, away from the sconce he was sitting under, which hid Hermione. "You breathe too loudly. Please. I would like to see the face of the person who decided that eavesdropping was such a wonderful hobby."

Hermione contemplated over it for a split second. She had heard enough to realise what Sirius wanted to do, and she agreed with her friend. For anyone else, she was sure that he was well within his rights to obliviate them. She _knew_ that she was a different matter altogether.

"Are you going to obliviate me?" she asked as she joined him at the table, still warily eyeing the contraption.

"Since it's you, my pretty, you get to remember how...um...ravishingly handsome I look even at this late hour," Harry replied with a grin.

His stumble over calling himself 'ravishingly handsome', however, had her smirking and raising an eyebrow at him. He grinned timidly this time and raked his hair with a splayed hand, before sheepishly replying, "I was just practising the way dad used to speak."

Hermione couldn't help but laugh lightly at that. "Well, you need more practice. And if that's the way your dad used to speak, Harry, I think he was a bit too full of himself."

"Mum used to say that all the time, Sirius says."

"They did call her the Brightest Witch of her Generation. I suppose stating the obvious was part of that."

"Oh. Taking tips and practising, are you?"

"Practising, yes I am. Taking tips, no. Who can give me those?" she asked with a sigh.

That set him sniggering, which set her sniggering, and then a lot of the tension of the year washed away. They then lapsed into a comfortable silence, as Harry returned to the suitcase and she sat there observing him.

"Can't sleep?" he asked all of a sudden.

She just nodded. "What was the matter?"

"Sirius found the remaining two Horcruxes, and now wants to place a report in the papers and bait Voldemort into an attack."

"That's stupid," Hermione replied bluntly.

"In his defence, it is not exactly his idea."

"The mysterious 'they'," she rightly guessed.

"Yes." He said nothing more.

"Who is it?"

"I can't tell you."

"Can't or won't?" she pressed.

"Can't," he clarified. "Only Potters and spouses are allowed to know, _technically_. While they won't, technically Sally-Anne and Katie are allowed."

She understood why. "Who else knows who shouldn't know?"

"Moony," replied Harry. "It would have been cruel to hide that from him. And besides, he was one of those required to know, so..."

"Did Amelia agree?"

"He couldn't ask. He had to get past me first. I own those things."

"Good. Why though would anyone think of such a thing?"

"He is worried and impatient."

Hermione just huffed and ended the conversation, having nothing to add. So she sat quietly again. She kept observing the weird contraption that stood beside her. Now that she had a good look at the thing, she saw that the vertical stand was actually a pair of rods which acted as holders for a sleeve which held the horizontal rod. And the horizontal rod was tipping to the floor as it was thoroughly unbalanced.

She watched as Harry attached two sets of rods and two more sleeves which made the whole thing look slightly like a suspension bridge, and could no longer control her curiosity.

"What is this thing?" she demanded.

"Guess."

"It looks incomplete yet, and can actually be used for any number of things, Harry, including a cartoon machine! Tell me!"

In answer, he unscrewed one sleeve and held it out to her. At first, she could make out nothing. Then she ran a finger along the inside and she could feel the depressions of the etched runes. Holding it closer under the sconce, she could see that it was a set that worked for simple object summoning. It was among the first that they had been taught by Babbling. Patients in St. Mungo's used it to summon water bottles or such from tables. It was paired with an orientation rune. There was no counter to that. She immediately checked the rod and sure enough, the counter was there. The implications sparked into her mind almost immediately. Another check revealed that there well twenty four such sets, and two such rings in each sleeve, and she just knew that each set would be at an angle of fifteen degrees from the other. The counter sets were exactly in the offset angle. Between the two set-rings were simple levitation sets, inscribed at ninety degrees along the circumference.

"This is a rotor shaft," she excitedly declared. "The summoning sets set it into motion and the levitation sets prevent contact."

"Very good..."

"The orientation rune allows summoning in only one direction. Depending on how fast you want the rod to rotate, you can activate different numbers of them."

"Yes." He dug into the suitcase and handed her the other part of the set. It had the effect of making her eyes grow as large as saucers. When he lit a bulb that dimmed the light of the sconce, she gasped. Magic to mechanical energy to electrical energy, without the destruction of the magnets, had been achieved.

"You figured it out!" Hermione squealed. "You actually figured it out!"

"Not really. I have just read a few bits and pieces and run away with that. I don't know the calculations and stuff at all. It's just a very small amount of progress, thanks to Crooks and his playlight."

"Of course, he is my cat."

"Yes. The Right-Honourable Crookshanks Granger, forever in service to intellect among magical mankind, chosen by his mistress. One small step for cat, one large step for wizardkind," he drily quoted.

While neither mentioned it, this regained ease was something they both relished. They had a special connection once, fledgling in its scope, one that events had disrupted and their own actions had decayed. And yet, it was moments like these when they could freely say things without worrying what the other might think.

Hermione crept up and leaned into him as he resumed reading in the simple silence. It was still cold, and they shared warmth, perhaps even of the heart, though it wouldn't be mentioned.

"You're reading Arithmancy? And this hasn't even been taught yet! This needs algebra as a prerequisite...What?"

"It's funny, isn't it, that you know whether it has been taught and what the prerequisites are?" he asked with a smirk.

"I read ahead," she admitted with a glare.

"Did you? That's news to me!"

She chose to ignore that jibe. "What are you looking for, exactly?"

"What makes you think I am looking for something?"

Hermione just gave him a look. "When exactly have you ever done something related to academics out of the normal course of things unless it has some benefit for you?"

Deciding to ditch any prevarication, he answered, "I am just trying to see why my original ideas were all failing. When I saw how the generator works, my first thought was to use a banishing charm at the vanes through stored charges of the charm. It was a disaster."

"It was too strong, irrespective of who cast it, wasn't it?"

"I started out with four vanes and they were all broken at the first cast each time."

"This method is not bad."

"Not too good either," he countered.

"Too many moving parts," she agreed after a brief frown. "So you need to reduce the power."

"That; and I want to see if things can be generalised."

"Any spell to the banishing charm?" she asked. "Then I think you are looking at the wrong things." This got her all his attention. She didn't need to see her friend's face to know that he was going to ask her to explain. "Well not completely wrong, but you need a bit of calculus here. Arithmancy and normal mathematics share functions. Every spell is a function of magical energy, but not necessarily a simple function. So for inter-conversion, you need to first know that, how to work with those calculations, and then express those standard functions as polynomials and then manipulate those. Also, I doubt that spells have continuity at the instant of casting and the instant of impact, so it would be better if you either asked or waited till we are taught."

"Oh." Disappointment shone through the single word. "That's bad. I hoped that this could help us make a public generator for Hogwarts or Diagon Alley or such on site. I don't know much, but when I asked Andrew..."

"Asked who?"

"Andrew Wilshere, the architect who designed Marauders' Place. When I spoke to him about this and about the transmission wires, he laughed. It is a proper engineering subject. We could generate many KW of energy and it will be wasted because of poor transmission, not to mention the fact that magicals don't use electrical instruments and the energy loss in generation, as well as material costs."

Hermione felt bad too. This needed to be taken to the magical public, and it deserved to be taken to the magical public. She just nodded glumly. "I wonder if transformers work for magical energy."

"I don't think it will. Magic doesn't seem to act like an alternating energy. But that's something to check."

Hermione sincerely wished she could provide a solution. She remembered how she had found out about the basilisk. She had seen herself help Harry with a time turner. She had seen herself help him with the very spell he had used. Then there was the Protean Charm on the coins. That was it!

"Harry! It can be done!" The hope it sparked on Harry's face gave her more reason to pursue it. "Tell me, can Riddle control the pain he transmits through the Dark Mark?"

If Harry found the question and change of subject disconcerting, he didn't show it. "He can. He uses pain to call, pain to punish, pain to inform and what not."

"Then that is the solution to both the generation and the transmission problem!"

"How is it?"

"If on the...what is the part that moves?"

"The armature," Harry replied, by now completely thrown by this flitting between subjects.

"And how small can the engraving be?"

"Come on, you know that. The object can be engorged, engraved and reduced to its proper size."

"All these sets can be engraved on the parts of the generator itself. By only slightly increasing the size of the vanes, and placing a mark on them, we can use a master block, perhaps a tile or wall, which bears the main mark, and cast the banishing charm at it! This way, once we learn the controls, the power can be varied, as can be the speed! We will have practically unlimited clean energy, business because the generators will all be remotely controlled and operated, and no long transmission lines the small generator units can be placed in situ!"

Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were sparkling in excitement. And Harry was looking at her in awe for a moment. Hermione barely heard his whispered, "You are brilliant!" before he found her lips occupied by his, almost as if the action was performed of its own accord.

It was only two or three second before what was a very spur-of-the-moment thing turned into a very tentative real kiss. They were both thirteen after all. And it ended only another few second later. Nothing had led to that moment, even, or rather particularly over the course of the year, and neither of the two had really worked up the guts to even want to ask the other out. Given the simplicity of what had been displayed, the reaction even seemed...and was... ** _disproportionate_**. And yet it had just happened.

It wasn't as clinical as it seemed however, particularly when it ended. He looked at her with pure awe, while touching his own lips. She on the other hand looked away, blushing.

It was only then that both realised what had happened. She had not lasted an hour into her resolution. He had fought with her. They had both tried, willingly, unwillingly and both ways, to stave this off. And yet, as much as they knew that this was out-of-the-blue, they couldn't help but feel that in spite of everything, it was just... ** _right_**.

The silence stretched interminably.

"Harry..." she whispered. She didn't know what she wanted right now. It was usual for them – things never happened according to their plans. On the other hand, she just liked what had happened in spite of her having convinced herself that it wasn't the right time.

"Her...Hermione..." Nothing had prepared him for this – nothing. Trust them to end up kissing like the scientists that they always showed in American films. He had a sudden vision of Hermione in a white coat, goggles and – well, some fantasies are not described in polite company. That, however, set him snickering.

"HARRY!" hissed Hermione, now losing her apprehension in favour of anger.

"Sorry, sorry," he chortled. "Sorry. I couldn't help it."

"What?"

"What a pair we make, Hermione! We waste months fighting, then bond, then fight and then bond over generating electricity of all things. And then, instead of me asking you out, or the other way round, we ditch the frivolities and just proceed to kissing. And even that is with a filmy scientist cliché! I swear, I swear this is a stupid story and the writer is some demented person!"

Hermione couldn't help it. She started laughing too. "Well, at least that is better than a contrived way where you kiss me after doing away with Voldemort or something. I can almost imagine you telling me that you wanted to wait till there was no danger anymore because you wouldn't want to endanger me. Or even worse, a situation where I would be the damsel in distress." Harry cringed a bit. "Please, Harry, tell me you didn't think of something so inane and cheesy."

"Er...not quite that way, no," he answered. They shared a smile and then studiously avoided each other's gazes. "So, er, now that we have performed a new ritual to get past the immediate awkwardness, will you...?"

"Will I what?"

"Will you be my...uh...girlfriend?"

"Why? Just because we kissed..."

"NO! No. You know that that isn't the reason. You are far more important to me than any person living, you know that."

"So you'd like to try..."

"No! No try! Yes or No! There is no try! Hermione, I am not so much of a fool to not be selfish about the best presence in my life."

"You said it yourself, Harry, we are not the Harry or Hermione you remember," she countered.

"We aren't. That doesn't mean we can't be. We are what circumstances need us to be, at any point of time. But to me you will always be Hermione, with all your genius, your anger, your flaws and your protectiveness, your idiosyncrasies and your quibbles, everything. Maybe we won't manage to show it all the time, maybe we shall fight, but then there is nobody else I would trust enough to rather be myself with."

"Do you, really? You haven't yet taught me about being an animagus," she reminded him.

"I haven't yes. But have you tried to learn Occlumency? I told you that I am incapable of Legillimency, so I can't teach you."

"Oh. I forgot."

"And you blame me, really. Such bad habits..."

"It irritates you when I question you."

"It irritates you when I question you as well. But I think about what you say and still try to convince you as you try to convince me. Unless either of us is being really stubborn, that is. And we both have tempers and still manage to calm each other. So far as I understand, our disagreement was over one matter only. Other than that, in all matters ranging from my biggest secret to the Wizengamot, I trust you and listen to you and you always give me good solutions. We are partners, aren't we?"

"There is that," she agreed. It was true that they had fought, but it wasn't like fighting Ron, when both ended up being unable to stand each other. And truthfully, this was what she wanted as well.

"Then yes, Harry, I would rather be myself with you than with anyone else."

And maybe that was what love meant – being able to trust another person with all one is, being able to be completely vulnerable to another. Everyone wears a mask every day. It is love that soothes the scratchy rashes that the mask leaves behind at the end of the day.

"You do realise that that means we will get on each others' nerves every so often don't you?"

"Well, I have had enough practice this year."

"So, after Riddle is gone, you'll go to Hogsmeade with me? I have got to be Nightflame till then."

"Yes. I will. I will be your girlfriend too. Will you be my boyfriend, less of a prat, and a lot more calm, in that order?"

"Yes, yes, and I am trying."

"No! No try! Do or do not! There is no try!"

"Touché, Ms. Granger."

She gave him a wide, toothy grin, which Harry felt duty-bound to wipe off her face. So he kissed her again. It wasn't deep but it was intimate all the same. They drew back slightly and each had a shy smile on their face.

"You know I am going to be addicted to that if we keep this on," Hermione bravely tried to me light of the matter.

"I think I already am."

"Then let's get back to work. We may wean you off an addiction yet."

"Don't hold too much hope."

"Shouldn't I?" This time she kissed him. "You really are hopeless."

"You're cruel!"

She patted his cheek. "What do you think of a night time stroll to nick a book about the charm?"

"Oh, you romantic woman," he snarked, "breaking rules during a clandestine stroll, are you?"

"Yes."

"Excellent. I will go fetch the cloak."

It was a productive night in the library. No, nothing that would fuel the imagination happened. They just managed to copy the best texts about the Protean Charm.

"You know, this Protean Charm thing gave me another idea. Of course, Hedwig will hate me, but there we are," Harry started.

"What?"

"I wonder if these things affect physical objects. And living objects as well," he added as an afterthought.

"How do you mean?"

"Owls always manage to find the recipient, provided, of course there are no repelling wards or something."

"Yes. But there are several limitations. Apart from the repelling wards, the entire system is a security risk. The sender is untraceable for one. Then again, even if the sender is traceable, there is nothing that would stop someone with the mindset of a Death Eater from sending a bomb-like thing to someone they know, while sacrificing the owl as well so that they leave no evidence.

"Then there is the problem of parcels. Smaller owls have problem with large parcels. Most families can only afford those, though, so often they don't have a choice. And how many times have we seen Errol looking like a proper owl zombie after a particularly arduous flight?" She took a deep breath, having listed all the problems, and having certainly had the problems faced by the owls at the forefront.

Harry smiled and replied, "Exactly! So why not have Protean Charm linked Post Offices, with the Charm linked with a Switching Spell and some sort of identification. The delivering office will switch the package or letter with the corresponding receiving office. A complete security check in the sender's presence will eliminate most security concerns. The sending office will take a larger cut, followed by the receiving office, together accounting for about seventy five percent of the fees. The rest will, once again be for patent payments. This will also provide employment."

"Did nobody really think of this before?"

"We won't know till we find out, will we?"

"That's true. About the only problem I can see is if people send foodstuffs. There's no way to detect poisons without opening the packages. In theory, though, this is a very good idea."

"We will only have to worry about advertisement. Owls, once people buy them, are free of cost."

"Yes, but far many more people have to rent them, and this way would be easier, and cheaper as well, for them. The main cost factor is the owl's life, and its absence time. With only local delivery, even the delivery time will be cut. Of course, it is dependent on the system working for physical objects. Even the security aspect is based on some mythical 'they' who can do it." They both nodded, needing to keep their imagination constrained to reality. "All the same, why do you want to know about whether it works for living things?"

Harry mumbled something which she heard, and knew she would laugh at, so she asked him to repeat. "I do not like the Floo and Portkey."

"And you want to do something asinine like switching yourself?" Hermione asked with an edge to her voice.

"What's wrong with that?"

"Harry, switching cannot happen instantaneously. As much as magic seems to defy all rules of physics that we know, it cannot defy rules of matter. When the switch occurs, one object moves into a temporary space, is replaced by the other object and then the first object moves into the other space."

"Well, having used these examples to the contrary, I feel that I must mention them. Apparition is one. We essentially switch air and human bodies, causing the crack due to the sudden expansion of compressed air in the space previously occupied by the person. Undetectable expansion charms defy space and matter."

"Well, we can just agree to try and understand it better, for now."

"I agree. Then, when we start our company, we can go after the research."

"Assuming quite a lot today, aren't we?"

"What?"

"You assumed that I wouldn't mind being kissed by you."

"You didn't."

She ignored that. "You're assuming I want to be associated with these businesses."

"Don't you? You get to do something new and change how things are done!"

She ignored that as well. "Harry, think of the things that may happen! I could have slapped you and not remained your friend. We may yet one day break-up and if we start the company as you want to, it may affect it."

Harry took a sharp breath at that. "Hermione, I don't think you'd have quite realised what has happened. Tell me, am I important to you?"

"Of course you are! What kind of a question is that?"

"And don't you think you are important to me? You are much more than my best friend or my girlfriend. Do you think it would be bearable for me to hurt you in anyway? Do you honestly think that it would be bearable to be unwanted by you? Did you know that it was as bad as a physical hurt when we were fighting, and that hurting you hurts me too? By the same token, I could never, ever think of any way in which you no longer remain a part of my life. I don't mean in the way that that Hermione and that me were inseparable.

"I mean you, the normal Hermione Granger, who cares about owls and elves, has an extraordinarily smug little orange cat, who finds everything new to learn absolutely interesting, teaches me to deal with the alliance out of sheer logic and instinct and is completely devious when she wants to be, who cares about me and tries to be my moral compass no matter how much I resist, and is my best friend. You know that I am attracted to you, and am so at the exclusion of anyone else."

Hermione had shiny eyes for a moment. Of course he knew to assuage her primary doubt. She glared at him for the real misdemeanour. "You are getting too good at blackmailing people emotionally."

"Is it working?"

A swat to the arm accompanied the affirmation. "I would be lying if I said that fighting with you doesn't hurt me too," she whispered. "But we are young, Harry, too young to truly say anything forever."

"I worry about that and about being too forward and too fast as well. Well, we shall just discover and make things up as we go along, as we always do."

"We do that a lot, don't we?"

"We get that right too."

She laughed lightly before asking him, "If the worst happens, we will remain friends, right?"

"Yes. I will even remain a celibate."

"Harry!" she scolded, with a swat to his arm.

"So as we agreed, may I be myself with you?"

"Yes. And I shall be so too."

* * *

The following weeks made no difference whatsoever as far as their public relationship went. They were still each others' best friends. If they shared more secret smiles, sudden blushes after a small absence, more hugs, and just simply more understanding than before, few people observed and none commented. It was par for the course for them.

So nobody commented when Hermione kissed him on his cheek (long enough for a small print to appear) before the match they won 210-30 against Ravenclaw, or waited till after everyone had returned to the carriages at the end of their day in Hogsmeade, or when Harry dutifully wrote down everything she spoke about elves and took her to the kitchens to meet them, or when Hermione always returned from Hogsmeade with windswept hair and pink cheeks, nor when the library saw Harry's presence far more than it had ever seen.

What people did comment on was the fact that both were always smiling. They seemed happy, really happy. They were happy in a way that seeing them being happy made those who saw them feel happy as well.

Indeed, when the Warden of Azkaban was signing on the custody papers for the husk of Antonin Dolohov's soulless body, he couldn't help but remark that he had never before seen anyone smiling in a non-sadistic manner while receiving the body of a prisoner who had been kissed. The prospect of what that body was going to be used for made Harry smile wider.


	50. Chapter 50

**Souls Bound**

 _"_ _So you finally did what I had warned you to not do," Cassiopeia remarked with a grin. She was too amused for a Reaper._

 _"_ _What did I do?"_

 _"_ _You checked the box regarding your..._ 'soul mate' _."_

 _"_ _It was not some level in some game you know. It was something that...just happened," he finished lamely._

 _"_ _Just happened, you say. You go about kissing girls and say it just happened?"_

 _"_ _That's not what..." he started, causing her to end up in a gale of laughter. "You were having me on. How exceedingly amusing!" he sarcastically remarked. "I am sure that this is what all Reapers seem to do on a regular basis."_

 _"_ _Not on a regular basis," she corrected. "We do it only once we are very sure of our charges succeeding."_

 _"_ _So I am going to succeed?"_

 _"_ _There is nothing left, really now, is there? You're on the right track with the technomancy thing, though you wasted too much time doing other things. And I was too sure that you'd never allow yourself to become too comfortable with anyone to the extent you are with Hermione, never mind your emulation of the legendary fights of Weasley and Granger, albeit in private. And I don't need to speak about Riddle. You will get him all joined up next week, and keep him half-dead till the solstice. So yes, I will term that success."_

 _Harry just grinned widely at that._

 _"_ _That said, though, there is exactly one stretch of time when he will be at his most dangerous."_

 _"_ _During the ritual, when he regains his complete soul," answered Harry._

 _"_ _That's right."_

 _"_ _I kept wondering ever since I read about it. Shouldn't there be any remorse felt if his soul will be fixed?"_

 _"_ _I doubt it. There are two reasons. One is about the...quantity of his soul, for lack of a better description."_

 _"_ _Oh. The Diary was destroyed so it won't be a complete soul, so it won't actually be fixed, so to speak."_

 _"_ _That is correct. The other, though, is more important. You can't force him to feel remorse. No ritual can force any feelings, nor can magic. At least, it can't engender true feelings, except maybe fear, wonder or excitement. But they aren't truly as powerful as love or hate or remorse, are they?"_

 _They sat in silence for a while._

 _"_ _You know, I am going to miss you," he said forlornly._

 _"_ _Oh don't you worry," she replied a little thickly. "We shall still meet till Voldemort is gone. And maybe I can wrangle a visit every Yule."_

 _"_ _That's good..." He looked at her with a frown. "You know, I have two questions for you, really."_

 _"_ _Yes?"_

 _"_ _Who are you, really? How did you end up in this job?"_

 _Her eyes twinkled as she answered, "Sorry, that information is classified."_

 _"_ _Please?"_

 _"_ _No. It is against my employment terms. Next question please," she firmly ordered. She received a mulish frown before the next question._

 _"_ _Why have I changed? Hermione once told me I had a 'saving people thing', and I was generally considered to be noble. Why have become so, so...grey, vicious, malicious, manipulative, often cruel, unfeeling, desperate and sometimes murderous? And Lord oh Lord, I speak so much sometimes, it makes me tired of my own voice!"_

 _Cassiopeia smirked at him. "I thought you had only two questions?"_

 _"_ _That was just one."_

 _She smiled, before her face became grim. "It is good you asked me that question, Harry. You needed to realise it, and also know the answer. Unfortunately, it is not an answer you will like or expect."_

 _"_ _Bring it on. I have learnt to accept what I don't like or don't expect."_

 _"_ _Last time around, you saw so much death; so much of it, that you became desensitised to its occurrence yet there was still enough guilt to hurt you. It was a dichotomy. Cedric died and you were locked up alone. You blamed yourself because you decided that you were the reason he was there. You were under house arrest yes, but worse still, your own mind tortured you. Your conscience made you feel like a murderer. Then there was Sirius. Your guilt doubled. Then Dumbledore died, and here the blame lies squarely on his shoulders."_

 _"_ _Dumbledore's shoulders?" asked Harry. "Not his controller?"_

 _"_ _No. Think Harry. Think. In spite of everything that he can be un-blamed for, Dumbledore still has the compulsive need to believe in the good, even in people who are already lost. If only he could just do a little more is the mantra of regret he has followed. At the same time, he sees no wrong in sacrificing what he considers his, and that includes people. He sacrificed_ his _Order members,_ his _prophesised one,_ his _life, and so on and so forth. The list is endless. That night he sacrificed someone else."_

 _"_ _I don't get it."_

 _"_ _Don't you? Let me put things straight for you. That night, Dumbledore was not the only person harmed on the Astronomy Tower. One other was harmed in ways that cannot be seen. That night was the one you once again found yourself the last to be in contact with the person who died, at that time a person you respected. Worse still, that night you gave him something, on his own orders of course, that weakened him to death."_

 _She could see that Harry was realising what had happened._

 _"_ _That night, your conscience called you a murderer, yet again. And that night, you agreed. The following year, you battled with urges, did you not, to strike back? Urges that you ascribed to the locket? But you were not Voldemort, you wouldn't act on them. The final battle cured you of that. It also added something else: the feeling of being a failure._

 _"_ _It's funny isn't it, how you became exactly what you weren't, an exact opposite? You became an anti-Harry; not a Voldemort, not someone with goals opposite of what you had, just the presence and the mind and the thoughts of someone who was essentially, NOT you."_

 _"_ _You don't mean...?"_

 _"_ _No. It_ is _an injury, but not insurmountable. But your subconscious registered who you were sacrificed to save, and it took care of that. It was one of the first things you did when you came back. Why else would somebody no worse than a troublesome gnat become so important, as to need personal attention for you to take care of the problem? Why would every death you engineered make you so defensive?"_

 _"_ _Are you sure...?"_

 _"_ _That you were sacrificed that night?" countered the Reaper. "Yes. Tell me, Harry. Exactly how did he manage to scoop up with a cup, a potion that couldn't be penetrated by hand, couldn't be made to vanish, couldn't be scooped up, and couldn't be siphoned away? You do realise that he did scoop it up, don't you? And a master of transfiguration did not conjure something else to pour it into? No Harry, that night he willingly sacrificed you in favour of ensuring that Draco did not lose his soul. You had killed before after all. It was doomed to fail. What was yet another murder to a Death Eater?"_

 _The dejection that shone through his demeanour made Cassiopeia feel very sad for her young charge. "Will it...will it ever be okay again? Did you know this before? Why didn't you tell me?"_

 _"_ _I realised it. But I had hoped that your family would heal you, in a way. Hermione meant well, but she is still only fourteen. The others forgot your age too. It didn't work as well as I had hoped. My telling you would have been detrimental to you. You were already so far along the way to doing your job, that, anything I'd say would induce doubt and would be catastrophic. As for it being okay, it's completely your choice."_

 _"_ _It never is."_

 _"_ _It is, this time. You only have to learn to forgive yourself."_

 _"_ _And what...?"_

 _"_ _And nothing; that is the point. Let go of the past. You are almost at the end of your quest, yet you cling fiercely to the past you are working to change."_

The dream ended as the boy woke with a start and a grimace. Some things were easier said than done.

* * *

It was a good thing that there was nobody who could see the frenzied action that was taking place the whole day in the practically nondescript suburb in Surrey, nor at two other manor houses far in the North on the 18th of March, 1994. A pregnant lady was moved to her ancestral home, with her niece in attendance, along with the only magical cousin-in-law who was worth knowing and was living. This cousin also doubled up as an emergency healer over three sites. The niece had been granted leave for a family emergency, which in a way it was.

Three very small beings were moving some boxes, while donning what looked like miniature anti-contamination costumes. Had anyone looked at their faces, they would have seen terror and disgust on their faces. Yet the three determinedly went about their job.

An elderly lady was flitting between a castle in Scotland, one of the Manors, and the suburb, along with a younger man, while a teenager and another man transported what looked like a mentally dead but physically healthy man, who was being tied to a chair. The boy tapped the chair with a funny stick, before the four healthy people touched it and vanished in a whirl of colours.

They appeared moments later inside the manor, whereupon this man, or rather, the body of the man once known as Antonin Dolohov, was levitated towards a special room. In life, the first instinct of any of the four, Sirius, Remus, Minerva and Harry, would have been to kill this man on sight. Now though, he was to be treated as one would a Royal patient. Over the two weeks since he was acquired from Azkaban, bereft of his soul, Dolohov had gained considerable health. Having literally no worries in the world, he found it easier than Sirius was still finding things. That was a very good thing.

A long rest, followed by a strict potions regimen, found Dolohov's body fit enough for the first part of the ritual. They needed him strong enough for a soul transplant.

The equinox took place about forty eight minutes past eight on the evening of the 20th of March. That was the moment that the final chants for the ritual would be completed, and Riddle's soul, which would already be summoned by then, would be bound. Since Harry and Sirius were the only ones allowed to wield the magic of the House of Potter (Neville too was allowed, technically, but he was required to lead the next ritual, so he was covering for Harry this time), and they knew it would render them exhausted for two days, the needed someone strong enough to subdue Riddle.

Obviously, this had the wonderful effect of destroying all their plans, as there were exactly three people who could do that, apart from a combined might of Remus and Minerva, as it would have needed the duo who were performing the ritual, _together_. And long absences, even on weekends, did not go unremarked, particularly when Remus had to be absent again the following weekend. Of these three individuals, two were impossible to contact, and nobody now knew whether they were alive, or if their reserves of the Elixir of Life had been used up since they had last contacted their student. That left Dumbledore. He would join them from the second stage onwards at noon on equinox day.

It was interesting how even after trying harder and harder to keep Dumbledore out of their way, they still ended up depending on him for certain reasons. The old man, on his part, didn't become an obstacle, instead choosing to show his willingness to work with them. Sirius had made a robust attempt at explaining how he had found a ritual because he was now desperate and was also a son of House Potter; an excuse which was true in many ways. Dumbledore accepted it, and if he suspected otherwise, he did not mention it.

Many years later, when Harry would see a grand old tortoise dispensing wisdom (much like his old Headmaster liked to do) to a red panda in a film, one particular line would forever stay with him. " ** _One often meets his destiny on the road he takes to avoid it._** " It was ironic how it had summed so many of the incidents in the life of the past Harry who was determined to be normal and had to be anything but, until he was forced to accept it.

He was not even sure he wanted to think about the " ** _There are no accidents_** " line.

* * *

For the ritual, which would commence at the precise instant of sunset, the body was placed into the ritual diagram, an eight-pointed star, which represented the independent, known, physical divisions of the sullied soul left, intersected by a circle with a diameter exactly equal to Dolohov's height.

"Alright, Pup, are you ready?"

Harry merely nodded.

Sirius inserted a needle (like the ones used in blood donation camps) into Dolohov's vein, while Harry kept the body fed on blood replenishing potion. A rivulet of blood started flowing from Dolohov's left hand, drenching the ashes of sacred woods, which filled the trenches of the diagram etched into the ritual room's floor. The Shield was the totem used as an identifier, and the blood formed a small puddle around it as well, making it look like a grotesque moat. Once it was done, they withdrew the apparatus, sealing the wound. Then they cut into the body the symbols used in the ritual of possession.

" ** _We the sons of House Potter, invoke the Spirits of Nature, the givers of magic and the creators of life, to help us deal with one who has committed a crime most heinous. Familia Magicus Potter!_** " they invoked.

There was again the presence of Firewing as the majestic ethereal creature stood atop the supine (and naked) body and screeched. Dolohov's hands and legs, which had been spread and bound to the ground with thestral hair through yew hooks, twitched as the body convulsed.

" ** _A body without soul searches for completion. You shall accept the soul of Tom Marvolo Riddle. Your magic searches the soul and shall find it. The Magic of the House of Potter shall guide it._** "

Firewing screeched again.

" ** _A soul and mind without a body need a true home. The soul and mind of Tom Marvolo Riddle shall find you acceptable. The Magic of the House of Potter shall guide them to you._** "

Firewing once more declared its acceptance. Then the Griffin flashed through the body and the Shield before re-emerging and flashing away.

Sirius grimaced as he looked at the uncovered body, which would lay there till the following sunrise. They had to be alert, lest they miss the moment when they had to move the body from the diagram at the exact moment of sunrise which was a little past six the following morning. So they were going to nap for an hour-and-half each starting from ten thirty, sharing the first slot.

"You would think with the aim being so powerful, the ritual would have more complexity."

"No. Mum said that the finer the control required over the ritual, the more complex it becomes. In theory, though we named Riddle, since she and dad are also souls, they were in danger of being caught in this. That's why they chose to immerse themselves into the House's magic till next Sunday."

"Oh. Still, we just spoke a few statements in Gaelic, and the ritual stage was done!"

"In Voldy's resurrection party the last time around, there were exactly three statements. Even the potion was required because there was no body and it needed to be created. The simplest rituals have the most powerful effects."

It felt weird, really, to perform such a ritual. It was not magic they were accustomed to, as the only true carryover from the ancients was the Runic magic. Ritual magic felt more interactive than truly drawing magic from within them.

* * *

Far away in the camp just at the foothills of the Alps sat a non-magical, lording over two magicals, who'd never have allowed it, under normal circumstances.

The night had fallen two hours before, and something about it gave the non-magical a foreboding sense. He had never been one to feel magic around him. He was magic. He was the lone source, legitimate user and ruler of all that was magical. Nothing else truly had the right to exist; not without his say so anyway.

All of a sudden, he felt a call. It was the only way he could describe it. Something was calling him. His first instinct was that they had been caught, but that wasn't it. He felt something call to him, something that would make him more powerful; something that would grant him immortality in the truest sense. He couldn't control his feet as he was drawn in the direction. He never even realised that something had combined with him – two things in fact. He never heard the cries of pain as his two companion writhed in the throes of agony originating from the hideous tattoos on their inner left arms. Moments later, they were dead, and the non-magical Voldemort had not even realised it. All he knew was there was something he needed. And the call was pulling him in. With each passing moment, Tom Marvolo Riddle knew that heeding this call was essential for his survival.

* * *

Dumbledore arrived at fifteen before noon the following day to disapproving stares from all the others. They had already prepared for the ritual, with all the Horcruxes arrayed around the body, and were waiting for the older man, and he had cut perilously close.

"You have prepared, I see," he said simply. "Is that the Ring?"

"Back off, Headmaster!" barked Harry. "It has some horrible curse on it, and you know exactly who has asked me to warn you against that temptation."

Dumbledore, who had taken a step towards The Ring, was shocked into motionlessness. The three stared at each other before Dumbledore blinked and slowly took a step back.

"Yes. You are prepared," he finally stated after half a minute.

"We thought you'd be too late or had decided to not come after all," answered Sirius.

"I am never late. I came precisely when I meant to." He almost smirked at the grimace on the face of the youngest person in the room. That would teach him to give him, Albus Dumbledore, books!

The reference passed straight over Sirius' head anyway, so he ignored that and continued, "We performed the first stage of the ritual. It makes Voldemort want to be here in some way. We aren't sure what way exactly, but it does," he informed lamely.

"And this next step makes it even more imperative for him, I assume?"

"Enough for him to want to desperately leave that body and for his soul to come here," answered Harry.

"And once again, I assume that this is when he will be at his most dangerous, seeing as he gets what he lacks – a magical body."

"Yes. He has to be conscious for the last and most dangerous part of the ritual, which binds the pieces together. His wraith will be the last to be absorbed into this body."

"You said conscious. Does that necessarily mean unfettered? Will it not be possible for him to be in some way imprisoned?"

"Unfortunately, no," answered Sirius. "The thing notes specifically state that there should be no magical or physical interruption of any kind within the ritual circle, this next one," he informed, pointing to the circle drawn just beyond the one they were using.

"So it also includes moving him while he is conscious and in possession of a magical body?" The three looked at the body of Dolohov. All of a sudden it seemed a very poor choice. "Dolohov was very powerful, both physically and magically. He was also the sort of Death Eater who fought with his mind, a truly dangerous combination, so he might **_dodge._** About the only thing we can hope for is for a spell that will be strong enough to throw him into the circle," Dumbledore reasoned. "As powerful as you suspect me to be, I will readily admit that I will not be able to match the agility of a desperate Voldemort in the body of this Death Eater. All the same, he will be wandless. It could be a matter of chance."

"Can't you conjure a large Bludger and wham it into him or something?"

"You need him conscious," Dumbledore pointed out. " _I_ could count on my fingers the number of times any player wearing protective gear has retained consciousness after a directed, intentional hit scored by the Beater."

"So essentially we just have to hope for the best, prepare for the worst and otherwise wing it."

"Very simplistic, but true nonetheless," agreed the Headmaster.

"Well, we should just get on with it."

Dumbledore took up his position, wand raised. This was the first time in many years that he was going to be excited by new magic. This stage of the ritual was going to tax the two the most because the natural state of a soul in the living world dictated having a body, and each of the pieces was going to jostle with the other to be the first to claim the body. Here Sirius and Harry would have to exercise control over the parts in a metaphysical sense and force them into a queue.

" ** _The soul of Tom Marvolo Riddle exists rendered in pieces. It seeks unity and seeks to follow the laws of the Great Spirits. His mind and body shall claim this body soon. The Magic of the House of Potter guides it to this body where this split 'One' shall reclaim its preordained state._** "

Of course, it wasn't a bland English prose. It was what seemed like a rhyme in the language they were using throughout the ritual.

Immediately the items started vibrating as a keening sound filled the room. It was becoming visibly difficult for the two sons of Potter as streams of what seemed like black gaseous pus emanated from the Horcruxes and started swirling about. These things were dangerous, particularly if they chose to possess a susceptible person – like Dumbledore.

What they had all forgotten was that the natural instinct of the Horcrux was to possess another. And once again Dumbledore was susceptible to the Ring. He was already moving towards it with a crazed expression on his face.

"Familia Magicus Peverell!" Harry screamed. As usual, their elaborate plans were destroyed at first contact. As soon as the Dragon appeared, Harry screamed at it, "The Ring!" It seemed to understand, or perhaps it was the magic of its Lord and so his intent was its intent as well.

Either way, it was instantaneously upon Dumbledore, knocking him out of the way by possessing him (the Peverells **_had_** dabbled...a bit...in soul magic, after all), before grabbing onto the ichors originating from the ring and pouring them into Dolohov's mouth. It was speculated that he might have been feeling intense pain, but he didn't have any consciousness to express it or to understand it in the first place. The body convulsed horribly. Then the screams started.

It was not Dolo-Tom who screamed, though he might have been in pain. Calling upon two Family Magics while performing a ritual which needed considerable power, was the pinnacle of stupidity, and unfortunately, the necessity of the moment. Had that not been one, they would have had a dead Dumbledore, or worse possessed Dumbledore to contend with, along with the controlled-resurrected Dolo-Tom.

By this time Dumbledore was back on his feet and was staring in horror as he realised what had happened. Sirius no longer needed to hold on, because the Dragon of Peverell was doing the job – much faster than was both required and allowed. In theory, this ritual would have taken till sunset that day, and since the various parts had no mind, it would be no better than one big lightning bolt scar. It was the wraith of Voldemort that would cause the problems. And the faster the Horcruxes were emptied, the faster the wraith would be pulled in. It was originally expected that the Wraith would arrive by the next evening, at the commencement of the equinox. It would be there at least twelve hours early. The Dragon had sensed danger to The Peverell and had therefore taken steps to work around that – it had taken up all the pieces in the room and forced them into Dolohov. Sirius and Dumbledore had the unique misfortune of seeing how the Dementor's Kiss worked in reverse.

And then Harry collapsed and passed out.

* * *

The non-magical who was now most running north-westward, unmindful of the sharp pain in his lungs, felt a stronger tug. He despaired. He needed to go there. And he was nearly two and a quarter thousand kilometre away. He ran. He had no money to take any mode of transport. He had no money for food or drink. He was now obsessed with the objective of heeding that call. And he moved and moved and moved.

By the time night came, the soul of Tom Marvolo Riddle was still obsessing over the call and had quite forgotten the body. It had become an unnecessary impediment. It was causing him pain. Was this what it felt like to die? The last time around he had a body one moment, and then he didn't the next. He didn't like it. Perhaps having a body was not so good a thing. Then he grimaced. If only this body had been magical, he would have apparated.

The anger, irritation and most importantly the tiredness, eventually made the body of the poor Albanian peasant give out. And finally, Tom was free to rush towards the call.

* * *

"What the bloody hell Dumbledore?" Sirius growled from his position. "What the hell were you effing thinking?"

"I wasn't, Sirius, regretfully," he replied with deep shame on his features. "I had believed that I was beyond it. Alas, I am not. The mistakes I have made in my lifetime, Sirius, I wish I could correct them. I have made more mistakes than I remember."

As it was, Sirius only held on to his tenuous grasp on the magic by the very skin of his teeth. He had a strong urge to kick the man in his balls, but then decided that he didn't really need further loss of concentration.

"What do we do know?" he snarled instead, pointing at Harry. "He needs to invoke the next part, and if Riddle turns up by tomorrow morning, we might not be able to subdue him! The next chant has to be used by both of us!"

"My apologies again," Dumbledore replied. He had never before truly been the one who caused their side to fail, at least not knowingly. This was Voldemort being defeated by Harry as per the Prophecy, with a power he simply couldn't know, and he himself had become an obstacle. It therefore fell to him to get things into order. "Is there anything that can be done to revive Harry?"

"The ritual stipulated that till all of Riddle is absorbed into that body, there should be no magic used either on the casters or the body, and the body should remain untouched magically till the next ritual as well. No such stipulations for the casters exist. Then there should be no physical interference during the ritual. That is all."

"I see. There is something I can do after all. Do you have an elf on hand?"

"Yes. Kreacher!" he called out.

"Yes Master?" Then he saw Harry. "What is the matter with the little master?"

"Harry is exhausted. Professor Dumbledore here will ask you to help him. Please do."

Kreacher's agreement was grudgingly given.

"Kreacher, at Hogwarts there is an elf called Woolly. You will find him in the Kitchens. Ask him to give you the bag of my special sweets. Mix a tenth of that in a litre of water and have Harry drink it for the next four hours before he may eat something. Do not wake him by magic, however. Fetch a large onion and cut it very close to Harry's face. He must smell it."

"Yes Professor."

Sirius was still holding on, but there was definite distress on his face.

"Do not worry my Lord Black. That is a solution of a little salt to preserve the minerals and lots of sugar for energy. It's quite interesting the things that muggles come up with. With a heavy dinner, he will be back to his half reserves by midnight."

"It better happen that way," Sirius growled back.

Dumbledore nodded but said nothing.

Over the next four hours, Kreacher diligently performed his Healer Duties, and brought them all a scrumptious meal by seven. Waiting was about the worst part of anything. Waiting for eighteen hour at a stretch was torture. Since Harry was out of commission till four thirty the following morning, Sirius had the horrible position of having nobody to exchange positions with if he wanted to eat, sleep or answer nature's call.

Even when Harry did come to, eventually, Sirius would not leave. The kid was his in all ways that mattered now, and he could go on till Voldemort was locked into Dolohov.

"Sirius, you must preserve your strength as well," Dumbledore warned.

"I am not going to give the control to Harry yet!"

"I wasn't suggesting that," Dumbledore replied calmly. "There is no reason why what worked for him should not work for you."

"And what to do when I find out that I have too much liquid in my bladder?" Sirius asked.

"It is my belief that I am skilled enough to create a chamber pot for you here."

Sirius left it as a bad job. Dumbledore irritated him on the best of days.

"Have you two had your fight?" Harry croaked. "There's nothing to be done now. This ritual has been accelerated by fourteen or fifteen hours, I think. So that is how long Voldemort is to be kept at bay."

"It is fortunate that we have this time gap. There should be no physical interference, I understand, but nothing hinders a physical blow to the body, one that is not fatal, from being administered," Dumbledore reasoned. "A concussion, untreated as it would be, would keep even Tom out of things for quite some time. To my mind, it is the most effective solution to the unique problem we face. It shall further serve the purpose of incapacitating Tom without robbing him of consciousness in a way that he has to be magically revived."

"That's possible if he doesn't evade."

"That shall be my responsibility. Also, it is perfectly allowed for the body to be chained up between the rituals, if I have understood correctly."

"Fine," Sirius grudgingly allowed. Therefore, upon request, Kreacher returned with well-forged chains and shackles, courtesy the Black Dungeons.

To pass the time, therefore, after five minutes of uncomfortable silence, Dumbledore told the student-guardian about a new appointment. "Dr. Granger wrote to me about it, actually," he explained. "I admit, such a post was not available in my time, or even your time, Sirius, in muggle schools, and it has me intrigued."

"What post?"

"Dr. Granger recommended that I employ, or hire, as the case may be, a school counsellor."

Sirius froze. "And who exactly did she recommend?"

"An old Order member, as it turns out, one who had forsaken the magical world after severe losses."

"Oh dear Merlin," Sirius moaned.

"I take it, from your reaction, that my suspicion that you have met before, after your release is true."

"I did, yes." He glared at Dumbledore. "How did she agree?"

"It is not among my admittedly many talents to understand how the mind works, Sirius."

"Just who are you talking about?" Harry asked.

"Marlene McKinnon," Sirius growled. "She was the one masquerading as Dr. McCraig."

Harry could suddenly understand why that subject was taboo. He wisely decided to shut up.

"It appears that the muggles have made quite a few strides in understanding the intangible, more than magicals have. I just wonder how many of those who embraced the darkness within them could have been identified early on."

"You did have ways to identify them early on," Sirius spat. "I will admit that we were not the best people in the world, and certainly lacked maturity in several instances where it was required. However, you never saw who we targeted. They started small, calling newbloods 'mudblood' and so on, and by the time they were old enough to be criminals, they were very eager. You never tried to find out why we targeted those people. You had it in your power to correct it, to teach them better. You didn't. You, and even Minerva, Horace, and everyone else failed in your duty as teachers to make them more than magicals. You failed to make them human."

"They were still juvenile by any law, Sirius."

"The term juvenile is misleading. It is all nature. Tell me, Dumbledore, did the bullying in an orphanage teach our guest here to be murderous? I know enough non-magical history, Dumbledore. They faced a massive depression in the mid-1920s around the time this one was born. Nobody had anything much. Life was a rare commodity. What made him so special? At worst, he was living a life like every other orphan. By the time he was of age, the Second World War was in progress. You fought Grindelwald then. Uncle Charlus flew for the RAF then, aged only twenty. Did Riddle think beyond his selfish motivations? He didn't. No. It was his nature."

"And there is the fallacy. Do you honestly think that everyone in our world who became a Death Eater truly followed their own thoughts?"

"Yes. How many examples from my own family should I offer? My brother brought in this Horcrux," Sirius vehemently replied, pointing at the locket. "He went about fighting Voldemort in a different way than I, but he did it just the same. Aunt Dorea was also a Black. She didn't turn bad. I knew better than to accept the utter drivel my parents espoused by the time I was eight. Andy had Bellatrix as a sister, the utter hag Druella and that madman Cygnus as parents. She is one of the best people I know. As much as I hate that man, I honestly doubt Barty Crouch taught his son to hate muggles. Snape had Lily as a friend, Albus, Lily! How could someone who was her friend betray her so spectacularly unless it was his nature? Remus has had more reason to be Dark than anyone I know. I would string anyone who insinuates he is Dark by their thumbnails. Peter was a Rat in every sense of the term. The Death Eaters were invested in their own beliefs and their power, insulated from the world around them by their own delusions."

It was a shock to Albus' system to see Sirius take such a strong view on things. These arguments had been presented to him before, of course, but never in a way that told him that his view on the matter was looked upon with nothing more than utmost contempt and disgust. He had an opponent who did not look up to him, and therefore would be strong enough to decide on this matter.

"So what do you think I should do, had I the chance again?"

It was a deliberate question to trip Sirius and Harry both. Thankfully, Sirius was also alert to it. "Nobody gets a second chance Albus." The tone was rich with condescension. "Even if you did, in some hypothetical world, I doubt you would have the will to recognise the true 'Greater Good' if it slapped you in the face, or the guts to set aside all that you believed in as far as the way to go about changing people's attitudes is concerned."

"You truly do believe that."

"Yes."

"Just as you truly believe that nobody gets a second chance?"

"Yes."

"Interesting," was all that Dumbledore remarked. He was like a dog with a bone, and it was a very worrying bone for that particular dog to have. He scrutinised Harry with an odd look, and then Sirius, before nodding, the original subject of Marlene long left behind.

There were times when Harry preferred being ignored. That was one of those.

The situation was dissolved by the very fortuitous arrival of one Tom Marvolo Riddle, wraith. He was borne by the Griffin.

"The Magic of the House of Potter, as promised, brings the soul and mind to the body it was promised and gifts the body the mind and soul of Tom Marvolo Riddle. So mote it be!" cried Sirius and Harry in unison. The Griffin flashed and disappeared.

And then Dolo-Tom screamed. He screamed and screamed and screamed. It was a surprise that he didn't break out into accidental magic. It was a good quarter of an hour before he/it stopped. By that time, the body had been physically shackled to a wall.

"Where am I?" he spoke in a harsh, gravelly voice.

"Hello, Tom," Harry said pleasantly. "Welcome to your re-birthing party."

"Potter," Riddle hissed. "You don't know what you have done, Potter. I know why you have given me a body! You cannot destroy me, even if you destroy this one!"

"Oh, Tom," Dumbledore replied benignly. He really wanted Tom to know that the curse had failed. "Do introspect, for once. Try, Tom. Try for some remorse."

"I would ask you to not call me Tom, but you will bore me, yourself and your minions, and still not listen." Riddle sneered at Dumbledore and then at Harry and Sirius, who had placed a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Don't you know who is Dumbledore's mind and master, Potter?"

"Not You Know Who, Tom." Tom blinked at Dumbledore who replied. "I was freed to a large extent, and though I do feel an echo, I am an accomplished enough Occlumens to withstand you for the time being. You on the other hand, never did obey me. I tell you again, Tom. Look within."

"You and your drivel, Dumbledore," Tom spat. His sneer, however, lessened rapidly. "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?"

"Oh come on, Tommy," Sirius teased, waving over to the Horcruxes. "We found your lost treasures. We are sorry that your pet accidentally bit your diary and destroyed it, but we have found everything else," he ended brightly and in a tone that would have seemed more at home in Bella's mouth.

"NO! NO! THAT'S IMPOSSIBLE! NO!" He shouted like a madman...well, that is a bit redundant, since he was a madman and behaving within his remit as one. And then he grinned. "Was that enough? I think it was."

"You don't believe me, do you?"

"No. I do. But I know you won't kill me. If I die, the world dies."

A dry mocking cackle of laughter was not the expected response. "Merlin!" jeered Harry. "Tommy, Tommy, Tommy; I don't suppose you have the other part of the Prophecy." He recited it for the guest's benefit. "You see, you did mark me as an equal. So, as you think, I can too. As you know, I do too. And I do have the power of the Potter family magic, which you don't know. I would have conversed more, but I don't feel the need to entertain you more. Professor, if you will?"

Dumbledore smiled simply.

"Attack them Dumbledore!" Tom screamed, making a desperate attempt. Sirius slapped him across the face and banged his head into the wall behind him. Tom groaned.

Dumbledore exerted massive force of will and conjured a simple long stick, before proceeding to hit Riddle across his head, knocking him out of his senses, but not his consciousness. Then he blinked and stilled. "That felt oddly, nicely satisfying." Tom groaned and looked at his old Headmaster with a concussed frown and a bleeding nose. "I really should have done this when you were in school, Tom."

Sirius and Harry gave him a strained grin. "Welcome to the club."

In the end, the scene resembled many of the oldest beliefs of non-magicals about magic with reference to rituals, odd assortments of vegetables and human sacrifices. In truth, however, it was just onion crushed and tied in a cloth to Dolohov's mouth. The ammonia would keep him awake while the concussion inhibited him.

For the next thirteen hours, Minerva and Remus kept watch while the first three ate and slept. It was not the healthiest thing to do, but the ritual casters would be too tired after the third stage to not sleep. They chose to stay behind to watch Voldemort turn into something nearing human.

By evening, Dolo-Tom was still dizzy, but awake enough to know he was being hauled away by obvious enemies for reasons unknown. So he started struggling. That was particularly bad, because it was Dolohov's body flapping like a fish out of water. He **_had_** to be unchained first before they could transfer him to the ground.

"Stop!" groaned the fiend. "Please! No!" The incoherence to his surroundings was making things all the more difficult, and made his captors feel vicious glee upon hearing his feeble protestations. After all, how many people had reacted the same way under his wand, or those of his followers'? Few executioners actually liked their job. But it was impossible to actually not feel happy about what was to happen to Tom Marvolo Riddle.

It was at exactly forty eight minutes past eight, that evening, when the final chant started. " ** _What Nature and the Great Spirits have ordained, this man, Tom Marvolo Riddle has torn asunder. The soul is meant to be unified. Death is meant to be met. Judge him as one who has committed the highest crime. Bind together and restore your dominion as the givers of the gift of Life._** " It was the last and the crux of the ritual. The previous part merely described the nature of the soul and the mind and the body and how they related to Death.

A sudden heat and red light engulfed Dolohov's body. If they thought the screams of tortured people were bad, or those of dying Horcruxes, they were sorely mistaken. Magic had chosen to give them a warning of what awaited anyone who pursued that path.

"I AM SORRY! PLEASE! NO MORE! PLEASE! PLEASE! NO! AAAAAHHHH!" screamed the fiend. Of course, as Cassiopeia had warned, this was not out of remorse, but only to attempt to convince whatever was doing the binding to let him be. He soon devolved to threats against everyone he could think of.

"There's no hope for him, is there?" Remus asked, mostly in disgust and a little in hope. If there was none, they could kill this thing and be done.

"If he fights against powers beyond comprehension, obviously not," answered Sirius. He was highly disturbed by what he was seeing. It was not every day that someone saw a living person being magically microwaved on the level of the soul.

It was an entire hour of disturbing screams (that would put the Shrieking Shack to shame) later that the ritual ended. And Sirius and Harry had to sit down before they collapsed. They did not realise that it was their own magic that was helping the pieces join together. It was a reminder to them as well. Magic, that was a gift, could be taken as well. There were people clever enough to learn from that experience in the room with them.

The surprises though, were not done.

A gleam of something like a Dementor appeared over the body and seemed to encompass the entire room in a stifling manner, but then it was gone as soon as it was sensed, and the ritual diagrams all disappeared in its wake, leaving behind a writhing, naked, crying and groaning Dolo-Tom. If there hadn't been five thinking and vigilant witnesses, it would have been dismissed as just a trick of the minds.

It was five full minutes before Moony had the sense to stun Dolo-Tom heavily.

"That wasn't something normal, was it?" Minerva asked fearfully.

Harry had a very tired grin on his face as he replied. "That was a very old friend whom everyone finally meets when the time to be with one's loved ones forever comes."

He did not see the three stares of shocked wonder he received.

* * *

The two needed a full day to recuperate, during which Andromeda had tended to both of them as well as Dolo-Tom. It was a very weird name that stuck. He was kept in stasis thereafter. Why waste resources on someone like Voldemort? The stasis charm needed to be recast every week, and only took about two or three percent of his energy. A monthly feeding would be enough till June.

The unwitting side-effects of the ritual became evident later that week. Augusta came straight to Hogwarts with Sirius. As an ally with all of Harry's houses, she was well within his rights to get angry at him for what had happened. However, knowing that he knew next to nothing about several matters of that level, she knew better than to be angry without knowing the whole story.

Sirius was considerably less constrained, for as soon as he got Harry aside, he barked, "What the bloody fuck did you do with the Peverell and Potter houses?"

Harry could only reply with a stunned look and a murmured "nothing". Augusta on the other hand took of her glove and thwacked Sirius on his head. "Don't be stupid Sirius. And mind your mouth. I am old enough to scold you." Sirius backed off. "Why would he do so without informing you?" she further asked.

Sirius scowled at them both and stood aside, before apologising to both, while Augusta took over the attempts to solve the matter. "Did you proclaim magically that the Houses of Potter and Peverell would be combined, with the Peverell dissolving into that of Potter?"

"No. Why would I do that? It reduces our votes, doesn't it?"

"That is what has happened, Harry. Griselda Marchbanks called us early this morning to ask me whether I knew anything. Sirius and I have asked her to keep the matter silent for the time being."

"But how can that happen? I never made any proclamation to that effect, I swear!"

"Okay, okay, calm down. Will you show me the Potter Ring?"

Harry brought it forth with a mental command only to be shocked. The ring had changed. On it were six minuscule dragon heads holding aloft that emerald which now held in its core the sapphire with the inlaid red griffin.

"How did this happen?" asked Harry shell-shocked. "How did the ring change?"

"There are only three known ways for this to happen. One is the proclamation. The other is there being a person who has greater rights to these Houses than you do, but that's impossible, for you wouldn't have the Ring. It can change in such circumstances, sometimes though the one of the house rolled in disappears. While we are on the subject though," she added, eyeing the now severely gaudy ring, "get a new one crafted. Individually they were beautiful. Now it looks hideous." Harry simply nodded. "The third way is if you have ever invoked the magics of both Houses simultaneously." The sudden slump of both Sirius and Harry's shoulders told her what she needed to know.

"I will never, ever include Dumbledore in anything of any sort again," grumbled Harry. "He only ended up upsetting everything, with very little actual use."

"We didn't know he was that susceptible, Pup."

"Explain. Now," commanded Augusta. So they did. By the end of the story, Augusta had a wrinkle on her forehead. "I can't exactly fault you. Nobody can, really. Those were extraordinary circumstances. But you need to come clean to the allies."

"Can we trust them all? Even people like McMillan?" asked Sirius.

"We have to. If you want, I can organise a meeting of all the Allied Houses now, and get them to swear secrecy. You, Harry, on the other hand, need to get your internal affairs in order." She received two disgruntled grumblings and undirected scowls in response. She rolled her eyes. "Stop behaving like kids!" she ordered. "We will find a way out."

* * *

A/N: **One of the mistakes that a new writer makes with stories like this one, those that aren't complete at the time of posting, is reacting poorly to reviews.**

 **This doesn't necessarily mean being rude to critics. Changing the storyline as it was to appease the critics is also one way. I suppose this happens because new writers want *** ** _everyone_** *** to like their story, or at least read to the very end and then pass judgement. Some manage to hold their own, some don't. This is not to say critics are wrong, far from it. If other critics had not pointed it out, I doubt I would have given this matter a second glance. It is a mere record of the worst mistake that can be made by a writer.**

 **I say this with a strictly third person perspective, because at one point of time, just after the thirty ninth chapter (which was the last chapter of the first block written before the story was posted), Harmonious changed the story to explain the consistently OOC characteristics of Harry, or as some called him, morally defunct. It led to an unnecessary increase in length (by about** ** _a hundred thousand words!),_** **and added meanderings into Harry' mind. This chapter, which is the beginning of the end, was supposed to be the forty third with a tolerance of one.**

 **And as the first-ever reader of this story, before it was even posted, I honestly believe that the first thousand words of this chapter were explanation enough. I may seem rude or disrespectful in my position as the one writing it now. I apologise if anyone is offended. That's the pitfall and the beauty of this site. Experience teaches a lot. This is something** ** _I_** **shall learn from. Of course, the other thing is: the word-length shouldn't exceed 10k.**


	51. Chapter 51

**Matrimony**

Thanks to all followers, favouriteers and reviewers. This chapter was actually with the next. Together they became too big. So it was split.

* * *

In neither timeline had the school year been interrupted so many times for the time-traveller. The Wizengamot meeting, Snape, Dumbledore, Voldemort's soul reunification, and now Sirius' wedding to Amelia, were the many events that took up school time. At least this new event was a very happy one.

It would take place at the Bones' ancestral home, the Ossuary, the bride's home, as per custom. With Susan the overgrown flower-girl and Harry the overgrown ring bearer, it would have made the wedding seem like something on a very old couple's bucket list. So instead, they were not given any official jobs, and were given the task of overseeing the organisation which they happily got down to. The Minister, Harry realised was the same one who had officiated Bill and Fleur's wedding. Perhaps it was an official position and not the way mundane seemed to choose the Church and the official. He didn't know much. The only higher power to trust, in his mind, was Cassiopeia.

It was going to be a well-attended and even better protected wedding. The entire alliance was going to descend upon the Ossuary, as would several friends. Neither Amelia, nor Sirius had much in the way of family left. In fact, it was only after Sirius' escape that there was some semblance of any family left beyond their respective wards at all. So the Tonkses, Grangers, Longbottoms, Remus and Minerva were the only ones truly representing that section for both in common. True, her maternal family, the Hargreaves were present, but they were not so close considering that the surviving family line was that of her grandfather's third cousin. To her, people like Alastor and Rufus, who had been her teachers and later her colleagues, the Hogwarts teachers of her time, and her fellow Aurors during the time she was on field duty, were closer.

Other friends like the Lovegoods and the Weasleys, the Abbotts and the Diggories, and the other families that had formed newer ties of alliance were invited as well as was the Headmaster and senior Ministry officials. That had been an issue, but this was not a time to poison the atmosphere with grudges. The real surprises though were the Garnarukran who formed the Gringotts' representative contingent. It was hardly everyday that the Lord-Director stepped out of Gringotts. It had diplomatic connotations, considering who their first choice for the Ambassadorship was.

Kreacher, with his granddaughter Winky, had rustled up a battalion of House Elves who were eager to help as always. It was a momentous occasion for them all. Marriage meant they had the arrival of babies to look forward to. And Mistress Amy was already going to have one, so everything had to be perfect and completely comfortable for her. Winky was quite the mother-hen when she wanted to be, and since Dobby was always more interested in being so weird for an elf, it was left to her to be the responsible one.

The Ossuary was cleaned. Refurbished and renovated would probably describe the state of the place better. Of course, there was nothing for many people to compare to, considering they had never been there before.

It had a homely, Hufflepuffy, welcoming feel to it. It was spread over a smaller expanse as compared to what Harry had expected and was only two stories tall, but with the red brickwork, the ivy wines climbing around latticed windows, the shrubbery, the stone-paved ways through the meadow-like open area, the chair-set near the doors for impromptu afternoon teas, and the barns and stables in the distance made it look like a setting in any quaint English village. It looked and felt more like a home than a seat of power, which was what it was intended to be.

The new couple had not decided where they intended to live post-marriage, but so far as everyone knew, they were married in all ways except legally, so there was nothing that really changed. But with the consideration of the new kid, this would be the place to raise him or her. It was not a happy thought. Harry felt a pang of jealousy, as much as he wanted to treat the baby as if it was Teddy returned to him. Sirius was his godfather first!

The walls were festooned with sparkling streamers and flowers, as was the canopy tent. With just under a hundred guests, there was ample space for everyone. Everything was set. It was an actual time for celebration.

The reason why the contentment and happiness felt true was that there was no longer a Voldemort cognisant of the world. It was very nice to be free from Voldemort, even if they were only halfway there. There were still three months to go, and honestly, even if that plan failed, they could and would find other ways or at least other people. The latent fear of Voldemort was no longer there.

This joyful celebration would mark the end of Voldemort's fear, truly, as would the baby, in different ways. It would mark love and life, hope and happiness, generally the things that turned old Tom Riddle's stomach.#

* * *

Molly Weasley was one particularly happy, and nervous, woman. The reasons were the same. Her new business had started on the day after the Equinox. She had decided to start off small – as a magical caterer and canteen service provider. A space bought in the erstwhile Knockturn Alley, which as of yet was still un-renamed, had become her single point of storage, workspace and delivery centre.

She had also employed elves. As much as she detested the idea of not cooking food all by herself, she knew that if she intended to widen the scope, she needed help. As it turned out, the Department of Control of Magical Creatures had a surplus of elves that were kept bonded to the various members so that they did not wither away. This was the system for the in-between-bonds elves. She had bonded with Toffee, Petal, Nobby and Mixy, four elves who were well-versed with cooking.

Since it was now a Potter-partner business, she had been given the contracts for canteen services for the four businesses in the Alley for a two month span on a trial basis. She did not mind that. Since they were only just starting out, it made sense to create a loyal customer base. She was getting good feedback, so she had high hopes. By the same token, she had taken to sending Arthur his lunch by the office floo instead of having him come home every day. This led to some curiosity, and food is something that always brings people together, though nobody actually barged in to share.

That started a slew of floo calls from people asking for recipes. They had instead been invited to the Weasleys for dinner. She received some customers that way as well. The objective was to try out dishes and gauge the taste buds before starting out a full-fledged restaurant.

It was how she was asked to be the caterer for the wedding of Sirius Black and Amelia Bones. This was her trial by fire. She was today catering to more people than she did in a week. If seventy five of those nearly hundred people were satisfied, she could consider it a successful first chance.

"Need some help, Mrs. Weasley?" asked a voice by her side.

It was her favourite non-Weasley boy. "Not at all, Harry. We are ready to serve at a moment's notice."

"That's great," he praised. "You just wait. Molly Weasley's food business will be taking flight today!" he declared grandly, miming a large board.

She beamed at him. "Oh come here, you," she said grappling him in a hug. He was much taller than she was now, so it was a bit difficult, but she was accustomed to that with Bill and Percy. Truth be told, this business was not as much about money, though she rather liked the idea of contributing to her family, as it was about her creating an identity for herself. Between Bill, Arthur and Harry, she had been coaxed, encouraged and pushed to try this out.

As soon as she let go of him, she asked, "Is Amelia ready? Does she need some fruit juice? I asked Andy and she asked me to stock some just in case." It was how she was, a matronly lady, though she was often considered overbearing. There were many instances where she was now learning that she should tone her concern down a fair bit.

"I don't know," he replied shiftily. "I have been forbidden to go over to their tents. Susie drove me away," he complained.

"That girl has a head on her shoulders," she remarked approvingly.

"HARRY!" called Neville, who was acting as an usher. "THE GUESTS ARE COMING!"

"I will come around later Mrs Weasley," he promised as he scampered off, a very odd verb to use for the lanky teen. He did look exceedingly like James, whom she knew in passing through her brothers, and she had known of him from around the same age as Harry was now.

She puttered around a bit, checking up on everything, ensuring the tastes and portion sizes (which she had been reminded too many times to moderate or reduce; she always serve a healthy helping, but it wasn't necessarily good for presentation and plating, and she had learnt, that to some, it was off-putting. In her business, having people ask for a dish again, after serving a minuscule amount by her standards was very high praise) when Dumbledore came over.

It struck her how times were truly changing. While not on the same level magically or knowledge-wise, even she knew that the boy who had just left was truly replacing her old Headmaster in many ways.

"Ah Molly, it is good to see you."

"You as well, Albus," she greeted back cheerfully.

"I take it this is a new business?"

It shocked her that Albus did not truly know that their aspirations and circumstances had changed since the last time the Weasleys met him. It was neither obligatory nor necessary for him to know, but as someone who had helped the Prewetts a lot in the aftermath of her brothers' deaths, Dumbledore had become a very important figure for them all. In the small magical community, some people were trusted to the extent of reverence. Dumbledore, till very recently had been one of them.

"Yes Headmaster. Harry got me to think of this over the summer, and Bill agreed, so I am attempting it. It's a bit overwhelming at times, but it is my own," she informed him seriously.

"Are you in need of help?"

"Thank you Headmaster, but we have that covered for the most part, as far as the contractual parts of the business are concerned. Sirius has been a great help while Harry and Bill were away. He sat me down and explained how the contract worked and how to set up suppliers and everything."

Dumbledore smiled widely. "So Sirius is doing his job as the regent?"

"Yes. We were all a bit adrift during the past twelve years, but those two are doing a good job. Did you know that they helped the Vaughns set up a magical repairs shop up in Straffordshire? Their daughter Mary passed out when Ron started at Hogwarts. She knows a bit about mundane machines, so Harry is funding her apprenticeship with someone he knows on the mundane side. Arthur knows a fair few of the other vassals, so he has been going around with Sirius and introducing them."

"Is it? I didn't know. It seems that I have been rather out of touch." He chose not to comment on the fact that she was using the word mundane instead of muggle as if she had been doing so all her life. All around, he could see changes.

"Nobody can fault you for that. You were cursed, everyone knows that. We all know how you fought that alone yet so well. A person of your stature and power with a weaker disposition could have carried on post V-V-Voldemort." She looked around furtively, before smiling nervously. It was still scary.

"You are too kind," he replied, marvelling inwardly at Molly's bid to overcoming her fears. **_He_** had never managed to get people to do that.

Molly's face fell. "Well, we can't take much credit really. Many people wondered about you when we found out, but letters were sent under the House Seal to let people know your plight. You know how people are. Some people take longer to come around, but most understood that you were used in that monster's lust for power, while still managing to do the best in the circumstances." She gave him a kind, understanding smile. "The Vassal Houses know to accept the word of the House of Potter, Albus. We stand with you."

Dumbledore didn't know if he was knowingly or unknowingly used by The Potter to come across as the Liege-Lord that was respected and well-liked by the vassals, someone who would protect them when the need arose, or if it was a situation created to save his reputation from the backlash that saving Snape would have had, but either way he was grateful. Together they spied the arriving guests.

"I better get going. I do have a seat in one of the front rows."

"Yes, yes of course," Molly agreed. "We will meet later at the Vassals' Induction?"

"Yes."

Albus tarried a moment around the eating area with a peculiar expression, prompting Molly to ask, "Are you having doubts about your induction? Perhaps, Harry's age is making it awkward, not to mention that he is still your student?"

"Oh, no, no, it is nothing like that," Dumbledore replied airily. "I was merely wondering whether it is the right time to pass the House over to Harry. He is my great-grandnephew through his mother after all."

"Is it so? Helping people must run in the family then. I have heard that Lily was much the same."

"Don't make me blush Molly. But you're right, Lily was a remarkable woman."

* * *

The wedding ceremony was just as beautiful, or even more so, as the one Bill and Fleur had had. Amelia danced gingerly, as did Sirius (he was horrible), before Remus and Susan, the best man and maid of honour respectively, took their places.

Amelia looked resplendent in her white and gold robes. She actually seemed to glow. Sirius looked like he was feeling all the happiness denied to him for over a decade in one go. He had foregone the robes for a completely normal grey suit with a peach shirt. They did not match, but then it didn't matter. They had each other for quite long enough for such trifles to never matter.

Amelia had lost many friends during the war. All the same, the few close ones that she did have, considering that she spent the majority of her time around people much older than she, were very un-Amelia-ish in every way conceivable.

Lady Amelia Bones-Black, regent of the House of Bones, was a tough woman. She was among the youngest ever directors of the DMLE and also its only woman director till date. She had fought against Death Eaters and had, in a span of under two years, overseen a massive purge.

Amelia's friends however, were everything Amelia wasn't, put together. Samantha Wallace was a giggly woman who managed to scare Padfoot enough to make him look nervously at his new wife. She also had all the attention span of a five year old, it seemed. She was always pointing someone out to the pair and hiding her mouth behind her hands as she ended up giggling again.

Patricia Ruther was another case altogether. She was a healer – an Obstetrician and Gynaecologist to be precise – who was going to be the one to deliver the baby. She was also one of the first recruits of the multispecialty hospital that the House of Gryffindor was funding. Since the Peverell-Potter unification, an executive decision regarding the way that the houses would work needed to be taken. The three houses, between them, would trade investments, new businesses including design, manufacturing and enchanting, and philanthropy. Healer Ruther had been the first to be approached, courtesy Amelia, and she was interested. St. Mungo's was often overrun by more patients than they had space. She had in fact helped secure a few more of her colleagues' help for the same till the James and Lily Potter Hospital would become fully functional in about six years' time. There would be more capable potions students coming out of Hogwarts in five years' time anyway, so there would be more Healers as well.

She was the most Moony-like woman they knew. Which meant she was slipping in comments with a face straighter than the one Minerva used to scare each new batch of little first year students after the usually entered in drenched. It was just that those comments were making Sirius blush and Remus, who was hanging about, to guffaw. And it took some skill to achieve those two reactions.

Miranda Phillips was for Amelia more than a friend. She was her House's vassal as well, but more importantly, she was the woman they had to thank for helping her through the twelve years. She was a friend when Amelia was bogged down by office politics, was an aunt to Susan when Amelia was buried under her work, she practically managed the House of Bones because she was the one Amelia had trusted long enough for that, having known the older which since she was six and Miranda was thirteen.

She hadn't met anyone but Sirius formally, but it made sense, considering that as much she was trusted, she never really could be that close to any of the others. But then again, post his exoneration, she and Sirius had met several times. He was being tutored in the ways of the House of Bones, considering the fact that he would be the Heir's father. He had thanked her profusely and very sincerely, enough for her to be deeply touched, for being there for Amelia.

And then there was Amanda Campbell. If Samantha Wallace was giggly and catty, Amanda was a pure gossip queen. She was Lavender and Parvati rolled into one. And that was the beauty of it all. Her gossip was delivered in such a manner that it seemed invasive to some. However, she always talked about the brand that so and so person always favoured in the magical world, or what possession of whom had gone conspicuously missing. It all came down to one thing. The woman, a cousin of the late and lamented Kingsley Shacklebolt, was her informer from among the socialite. One just had to observe her pauses and meaningful glances.

Sirius looked on wistfully. He only had Moony now. Prongs, Frank, Gideon and Fabian...they were all gone. As much as he hated the rat even post his death, he couldn't deny that he missed the friend he had had for seven years. Lils was gone. Prongs and Lils were there, but it was not the same. Regulus was gone.

Sure there were people like Ted and David and others, but he had never had the chance to have living friends.

So he went and met the largest friend most people at Hogwarts ever had. Hagrid, the great softie, was being very happy and had also sobbed into his huge sail-cum-handkerchief.

"I am very glad that you came, Hagrid."

"O' course I had ter come, din' I? I spent my time watching you lot grow up din' I? O' course I came."

"Well of course you had to. You and Moony are all that I have left from my own school time. Minerva doesn't count. She is always scary. You are the biggest friend most Hogwarts students make."

Hagrid smiled a very wide watery smile. Then it dimmed. "I am sorry tha' I never listened ter yeh tha' night."

Sirius considered Hagrid for a moment. There were some things that were simply not worth fretting over. Both knew that in that situation, Hagrid would have followed Dumbledore again and again. The gentle half-giant was nothing less than loyal to Dumbledore come what may. There was no point holding a grudge over that.

Hagrid was not done. "If 'n I'd found the Rat or Snape, I shudda have wrung their necks till they wouldn't have made a peep more."

"Well, that would have been an excellent present," Sirius said with an affected guffaw, "but that's all water under the bridge. Now we have got everything going on thoroughly well."

"'Cept You Know Who."

"Well I can let you in on a secret, Hagrid. Harry and I have half killed him last month."

"WHAT?" Hagrid roared. Then he looked around sheepishly and at Sirius. "Sorry, he was tellin' me summat abou' dragons." He turned to Sirius and made a spirited attempt at secrecy. "You-Know-Who is dead?"

"Well, not fully, but mostly yes," Sirius answered. It made Sirius feel like a fraud, but they had to buy Hagrid's loyalty without making it seem like it. Hagrid was important to Harry for some reason. Sirius suspected that whatever the ploy that Hagrid had been used in was, it didn't matter to the pup. Hagrid was still the first adult Harry genuinely seemed to like. "That's what I want to invite you to, actually. We intend to kill Voldemort sometime soon. We thought you would like to be there when it happens."

Hagrid looked almost giddy at the thought before he sobered again. "It will be nice ter know tha' he'll be dead. Killed so many o' my frien's he did."

"For all his truly astounding capabilities, it is a shame that all Tom Marvolo Riddle will ever be remembered as is a murderous, lying, cheating, genocidal, insane scumbag."

Hagrid chuckled darkly, "I'm sure tha' yeh used them words twice, but tha' is true. I will be comin' o' course."

"Good man," Sirius replied.

"An' the' I'll 'ave 'arry release me ter drink through the nigh'!"

"That he will!" agreed Sirius. "And I'll join you, as will Moony, I think."

* * *

The students who had been given leave for the weekend on request, except Susan, were watching it all from the sidelines. This meant that barring Percy, the school-going Weasley hoard, Luna and Hermione were there too. There was nobody else so close to the family that questions would be asked if they were absent.

"So, have you heard any old people gossiping? We generally get a lot of that at magical weddings. Lots of things that we can use against old Sirius," Neville remarked with an anticipatory gleam in his eye. "We could set Amelia or Remus onto him!"

"For the sake of Merlin, don't!" cautioned his friend. "I tried to slip Sirius a babbling potion because he was nervous and would speak lots of funny things and well... you get the point. Susan caught me and bit my head off."

"Is that why you were near Amelia's tent?" demanded Hermione, resplendent today in a green gown to match Harry's suit's trim. It was tasteful in the normal world but probably too much for some of the magicals – she was showing her SHOULDERS (!) and just a hint of her...proper magicals didn't even talk in public about those things! It was scandalous! "Were you attempting a similar prank?"

"It was funny," Harry defended mulishly. "I know how Sirius speaks when drunk."

Neville snickered.

"And what is this we here hear?" crowed a voice which caused the younger teens to groan.

"Indeed, Gred, did I hear ickle Harry having attempted to slip an original Marauder a Babbling Potion of all things, only to be arrested by the DMLE Chief's niece?"

"Big Marauder, small Marauder, big Director of the DMLE, small director of the DMLE; it all runs in the family for these people Forge. I can almost imagine little Harry and little Susan playing Aurors and Dark Wizards ten years ago."

"Oh can it Gred. You honestly think a Marauder's kid would play that?"

"You know, I am very much tempted to order you both to never use the Twin-Speak (trademark) thing you do," Harry interrupted mildly. "Perhaps people may even understand you then."

"You can't order a Snorkack to not burrow Harry. It's against their nature."

"Well, I can't exactly order a Snorkack either, can I Luna? These two, though, I can," he answered grinning toothily at them.

"So will we have to bow to you or something all the time?" asked Fred seriously, suddenly changing his tone.

"If you want to, I won't stop you," answered his friend equally seriously. "Maybe you can develop abs that way? Perhaps that will help you impress the ladies after your string of mishaps? You can try and tell me."

"You are a supreme git," the offended twin declared, while George was guffawing away.

"Why do **_you_** want to impress the ladies?" asked Hermione snidely.

"I never said I did. No telling who likes what though," he responded brightly. "Useful information for when we start taking out ads for Mrs. Weasley's restaurant, you know. If having Fred and George in all their birthday suit glory posing for any business increases sales, who am I to say no?"

"Good horrible Merlin's sagging nipple!" swore the twins in unison. "You know what mum would do if we exposed that much skin?"

"She would _skin_ you," chirped Luna.

"Excellent!" cackled George. "Little neighbour Luna is growing into a fine young lady with a finer brain!"

"I see that neither of you found the idea revolting," Neville observed.

"We have put up a show for our Chasers from time to time," admitted one of the two, while buffing his nails.

"I suppose they were distinctly unimpressed?"

"You wound us neighbour..."

Harry and Hermione inched away from the group. "May I have the honour of a dance, milady?"

"Please, Harry, we aren't Victorian-era frumpiness personified. Ask me normally, and I will see."

"Hermione," Harry tried again, this time pausing for a grunt, his arms hung low as he stooped lightly and looked at her with an expression Crabbe or Goyle would be proud of. "Me wanna dance," he grunted again. "You come." He then pulled at a tastefully loose strand of her hair for good measure. "That works for you?" he asked cheekily.

"You are horrible," she declared flatly.

"It must be my day for compliments. First Susan, then Fred and now you," he counted off.

"Why do I ever go out with you?"

"You can find the answer in your own time. Can we dance now while there's still some music?"

"Yes," Hermione replied with a crooked grin.

Harry stilled before huffing at her. "You did wrench what you wanted from me in the end."

"It is a necessary skill. Come on now," she replied, patronisingly patting his hand.

"And _you_ called _me_ horrible," he grumbled without rancour.

And dance they did. Not so much as to make people have half a mind to remind them to ensure propriety, but enough to let everyone know that they were quietly together. As Sirius would remark many years later, it was with all the subtlety that Lily wanted James to use till he finally ended up being her friend and ending up being shy around her – well shier compared to how he originally was. Just a dance, without grandiose declarations and oversweet cheesiness, was all that they needed to let people know.


	52. Chapter 52

**The Alliance**

Yes. I filched the "here's the proof" thing from The Great Manipulator. These are the spoils of a bet that I won.

* * *

Neville had (with the blessings and permission of Augusta) given Sirius the keys to Longbottom Hall, a farmhouse that they maintained on the northern outskirts of Thornton-Le-Dale, considered to be one of the prettiest villages in England, where the newlyweds would honeymoon. It was quite a job to take her there in the 1936 Phantom-III. They started a craze among magicals. Everyone wanted that car as their wedding ride home. Magic pales in comparison to the sheer beauty of an automobile.

As most of politics is, however, even the marriage was just the start of the Alliance meeting at Potter Manor. Augusta had gone there straight from the wedding. She had called it to help pacify the disgruntled allies, so he was going to oversee the organisation while the rest took care of Amelia. There had been many grumbles and doubts about the intentions of the House of Potter. The reason would suffice, but it needed a grand show.

So when the allies all started converging at the grounds of Potter Manor (an unimaginatively named place) as did the various Vassals, it was very obvious that the show was the House of Potter's re-emergence on the social and public scene after the ascension to the political arena. What better way was there to ensure long-lasting gratitude and alliance than conclusive proof of having at least partially taken care of Voldemort?

Every ally was represented by the seat holder in the Wizengamot, the Heirs attending along with the respective regent or proxy, if there was no Head of House. Then there were the Thorntons, Vaughns, Dumbledore, Weasleys, Rammer, Gareths, Wilburs Murrays and Cornells, the Vassal houses. Where oh where did only two weird surnames, Dumbledore and Weasley, emanate from?

There was one more person, who technically had no business being there. This person, however, was sitting inconspicuously and was hardly seen by anyone. One day, after all, she was going to be Lady Hermione Dagworth-Granger. And then, after a few Houses, which would be talked into supporting a petition for a seat for the Ancient and Noble House of Dagworth-Granger, agreed, she would have such a meeting herself. David and Jean were in attendance by her side as observers. They still had trouble sometimes, thinking of their darling daughter as a Lady.

The meeting didn't need long before it started. "With friendly wishes, I, Hadrian James, Lord of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Potter, and the Ancient and Noble House of Gryffindor, and the Most Noble House of Slytherin, bid you welcome to the ancestral abode of the Potters." There was a smattering of acceptance. This was all standard procedure. "Many of you may have known my honoured forebears, and may have worked with them. Your wisdom, guidance and help will be accepted by the Houses of Potter, Gryffindor and Slytherin with great gratitude and humility."

"Thank you for your words of Welcome, Lord Hadrian," spoke Chief Witch Marchbanks. She was the eldest regent of all at one hundred and forty one, managing the Houses in place of her great-granddaughter Selene, who was a sixth year Ravenclaw. "The Alliance requested for this meeting at the earliest to air a grievance with the Lord of the House of Potter and the erstwhile House of Peverell."

Out of simple respect, Harry stood and answered her, "With due respect, I would hear out this matter, Madam Marchbanks."

"It is considered common courtesy among Houses of our stature, to intimate Allied Houses of any major decisions regarding rolling one House into another, Lord Hadrian," she scolded imperiously. "The Allies would like to protest against the lack of such intimation when the House of Peverell was so subsumed by the House of Potter."

Harry bowed slightly to her and to the gathered guests in general. "This matter was brought to my attention by my godfather and adoptive father, Lord Black. I humbly apologise for the unwitting faux pas. I understand that a clarification is, at this juncture required. However before I may do so, it behoves me to ask for an Oath of Secrecy and another magical Oath." There were gasps and garbled protests which were ignored. "The matter is of such gravity, and I respectfully must maintain silence over the matter, till the Oaths are acquired. Please understand that this is not a matter of my trust, but sheer disgust about the depravity of one man."

There were no protests. They had asked, and he had agreed to answer, pending that stipulation, putting the ball firmly in their court. They all swore the two Oaths as were outlined. Some grimaced. The Potter was thorough.

"Thank you." He took a deep breath and then smiled at them all. "I hope that I am forgiven for this background. In the early months of 1981, my parents, James and Lily Potter, realised the extent of the Necromantic Magics that Voldemort employed. The House of Potter has fought against those magics before and knew precisely how to combat them."

"They knew?" thundered McMillan. "Why didn't they...?"

Harry raised an eyebrow at him. "The Clan Chief would be reminded that they were only twenty one and new parents, and not exactly able to face their enemy directly. Yet they tried, which is more than can be said about some. He would also be reminded that the House of Potter shall not stand for any aspersions about actions taken by its members."

McMillan sat down. He was already on wobbly ground with the Potters.

Turning to the assembled members, Harry continued, "Yes they did. However, the requirements for the magics to combat the situation were severe. They can only be cast between the Winter Solstice and Summer Solstice, and there is a higher probability in the small gap between the Spring Equinox and the Summer Solstice."

A few realised the significance of the timeframe. The current period was that very space of time.

"They needed a token of the magic, and a thoroughly blank being to negate the magic. Unfortunately, though they managed to procure the latter, the former was very well-hidden. They were unable to manage it before they died.

"They did not know, however, that the answer was closer home than was expected. Lord Black's younger brother, Regulus, had long since turned on Voldemort, and he was the one to discover it. He perished in the attempt to steal it and destroy it."

"Wasn't he a Death Eater?" asked Lord Fawley.

"He was. However, he did more than most to at least do the right thing, unlike many who were vouched for by people that the magical public was supposed to trust." That was a jibe at Dumbledore and the entire Bagnold administration combined.

"We have reason to believe that he chose not to be rescued by his unmarked helpers to ensure that his Dark Mark was not the thing that left Voldemort alive. The Black Family Elf, under the elf's bond, recounted the true incident to Lord Black. Regulus Black was still alive when he was taken by the swarm of inferi that were the last protections."

People shivered and shuddered at the thought. There were gasps of horror and closed eyes at that.

This was the way to commemorate Regulus. He was a Death Eater, but if the likes of Malfoy had been stellar pillars of society, then Regulus at least deserved that. Harry waited for the people to collect themselves.

"The Wizengamot has presented two Death Eaters the Order of Merlin," spoke Lord Dearborn gravely. "On each account it has been thoroughly wrong. On this account, however, I propose that Mr. Black, who was the one to try and destroy You-Know-Who, and was successful in it to an extent, deserves the accolade. I, for one, would be willing to sponsor the petition."

Well, that was a bit more than Harry had bargained for. However, this was Sirius' call.

"The House of Black thanks the House of Dearborn for the honour it wishes to bestow on our lamented member. The House of Black already proposes to sponsor an all-entailing scholarship in his name for the five poorest students with magic antecedents, given the fact that the Potter scholarship already caters to the Newbloods, to enrol into Hogwarts each year. This recognition would accentuate the fact that not all Blacks are Dark Wizards and Witches."

There was a chorus of "Hear, hear," at that. Sirius bowed and ceded the meeting back to Harry.

"It would now be the obvious conclusion that the House of Potter has at least tried to perform the magics to negate the Necromantic Magics."

There was pin-drop silence as people fully digested what Harry was getting to. This was pure show business.

"As of Equinox day, the ritual has been successfully performed by Sirius Orion Black, son of House Potter, and I, Hadrian James, Lord of House Potter. The one known as Voldemort can now be killed, in theory, never to again be resurrected."

The boys were reminded of their time at Highbury, such was the jubilation. Magicals were really morbid if death was celebrated this way. They had both killed and felt relieved, but not jubilant, certainly. Harry turned and winked at Hermione who was smirking back. The girl had created the Oath and had had him practice the disclosure, fine-tuning everything till it had enough effect. Hermione's true middle name was 'Meticulous Planner' after all.

One day, one day they were going to ensure that this 'unequal status' stupidity was abolished. Till then, at least privately, they would continue doing what they did. The people would have been scandalised how much leeway she had with the Houses of Potter, Slytherin and Gryffindor, without even being formally contracted.

It was a full ten minutes before ally and vassal alike stopped rejoicing and people wondered how it connected to the House absorption thingy. This time it Ogden who asked.

"The ritual used the Potter Family Magic, as you all may have obviously deciphered. However, the Necromantic Tokens attempted to attack Professor Dumbledore. There was no other way but to call upon one of the other totems at my disposal, and well," he turned his expression just the right amount of sheepish here, "I thought the dragon was cooler than the snake or the lion." He was supposed to be the fourteen-year-old who made a few mistakes along the way.

"And the Peverell House being lower was accidentally absorbed," completed Lord Ogden. "We quite understand." He took a deep breath and looked around to his peers. "Lord Potter, I believe I can speak for us all and say that we take back our grievance. We are all indebted to the House of Potter." He received several backing voices. "Off my own accord, though, I ask you this. You said that You-Know-Who could be killed **_in theory_**."

"That was the next part I intended to tell you all. While the necromantic part has been dealt with, the fiend has done something much worse than that. The House of Potter needs help dealing with this aspect. The House of Longbottom has agreed. However, again, the matter of the ritual's requirements is a major obstacle. It is the focus of our efforts at this time. I request Heir Neville to apprise you of this matter."

Neville stood to be recognised. "Voldemort," he said firmly, ignoring the toned down flinches and shudders, "wanted to be the last living being on earth. As such, he has cast magics to ensure that if he dies, so does everything else."

There was a partial vacuum generated due to the simultaneous inhalation. "You mean to say that he can be killed, but shouldn't?" asked Lady Bluewater.

"Not what I mean, exactly, but as thing stand, yes."

"Then what do you mean exactly?"

"What I mean is that the Longbottom family magic has an answer to this. A ritual that thoroughly strips any magic that is still active, ever cast by the person or subject. Voldemort will be rendered without his magic in existence. He has it right now, considering it was Dolohov's body that worked as the subject for the ritual which Lord Potter talked about."

"But why use that ritual? If all active magic is destroyed, even the Necromantic magic would be!" countered Alexandria Turnbull, the Heiress.

"For two reasons," replied Neville. "Magic is tied to the soul, by theory. And as for..." he stopped as Dumbledore raised his lit wand.

"Yes Vassal Dumbledore?" asked Harry.

"Milord, I wonder whether it is prudent for you to discuss these vile matters..."

"...with trusted allies?" cut in Harry. "Yes. All allies are trusted by the very nature of the alliance. They have a right to know what has harmed this world, especially now that one part of the threat has been countered. These things are discussed within the alliance because the help, wisdom, knowledge and contacts of the allies are not only required but respected; perhaps more than can be said for some, irrespective of their personal stature."

It was a slap down that had to sting. Dumbledore had no business casting aspersions on others when he had so spectacularly failed in his test. It also shamed House Potter when, irrespective of his personal stature, a Vassal made such insinuations. With the immediate admonishment though, and with the still coursing mood of happiness which was not completely brought down, there was a lot that would be forgiven. Dumbledore's old man act did not fool anyone. There was protocol which he was deliberately flouting. That meant he had his own agenda.

The Potter looked at the Alliance members and said solemnly, "The House of Potter tenders an unconditional apology for this, ladies and gentlemen." He then bowed to them.

With quite a few filthy glares thrown Dumbledore's way, Harry received nods.

Neville resumed his statement. "With respect, the secrecy oath we all swore, forbids us from actively searching for the magic that Voldemort used. I would deem it a necessary precaution and nothing more. It is possible that that was forgotten in light of the revelation." He was Heir of Potter only in name, but it was necessary that he help calm tempers. "Anyway, coming back to the topic; the vilest of the Necromantic Magics is the creation of a Soul Anchor. It requires murder to split the soul. Voldemort intended to do that twelve times. However, the process was stopped at eight in 1981.

"Let us come back to why the ritual already performed was necessary. We do not know how the ritual of the Longbottom Family Magics shall be affected. We have hope, because the first Anchor was unknowingly destroyed by Lord Hadrian last year, and nothing untoward has as of yet occurred.

"Secondly, the ritual that the House of Potter performed captured Voldemort's Wraith. This was the only part of him that was active in the true sense. Without him roaming around, we have time for the required preparation for the second ritual without fear of reprisal. He has already attacked through his inferi. He has no chance now. Even Avery and Gibbon are dead."

That answered many of the questions that everyone had.

"Both Lord Hadrian and Heir Neville mentioned that you need some assistance. Is this something the Alliance can help with?"

"We can honestly say that at this juncture, all help will be happily received," Sirius finally spoke up wearily. "I will admit that I have more to gain. I do not want my child to be born in a world where there is still fear – not after what happened to Amelia and me respectively."

People cringed at the reminder. Everyone had been complicit in quickly believing the worst about Sirius. And certainly nobody had seen Fudge's attack on the Director of the DMLE coming.

"That was a heinous crime," Regent Hargreaves growled. Distant they may be, but they were Amelia's family all the same. "It was betrayal of the highest order."

"What do you need?" Lady Branstone asked.

"We need elementals, one for each element."

She hissed a bit. "Well, you don't do things by half."

"The wizard we are trying to destroy didn't either," was Sirius' repartee.

Lady Branstone looked pensive for a moment before she looked up with a clear expression. "I will ask Lord Branstone – Rudyard – if he can get in touch with the Indian Ministry. He had been the Ambassador there before his tenure in Japan, and he had once told me the something similar to the ritual you mentioned was used as the capital punishment there, especially for those that violate the mundane-magical relations in the way that the Death Eaters did. People are especially accepting there on both sides, as many rituals tie in quite well with the major local religion, so the Statute of Secrecy is pretty much legal fiction in the country as with many others in the South-East Asian region."

"That would be excellent. If it can be done, and if they are willing to help, it would certainly be easier for us. And I can see the rationale for the capital punishment. Anything is better than the Dementors," Sirius said with a shudder.

Dumbledore did not admit that these were one of the very people he had asked and was still trying to convince.

"Milord," Elphias Thornton spoke nervously, "if I may?"

"Yes Vassal Thornton?"

"My eldest daughter sir, she is a worker of the magic of Water, we think. We have never tested, but she has managed her best magic with water and ice alone."

Everyone sat straighter with interest.

"How old is she?"

"Ten, sir," Thornton replied.

Harry frowned. "Mr. Thornton, thank you for the offer. However, I will say this straight out. I will never ask this of your daughter. The ritual ends with a human being getting killed. If she were an adult, I would at least ask her. But no, never at ten; I cannot ask this of her in good conscience. I would know. I killed my first enemy at just less than twelve. It is a burden that she does not deserve." Thornton's face fell a bit. "This however is important. If she wishes to learn the art further, I am willing to ask whoever does end up helping us to either teach her, or to recommend a teacher at the very least."

"Thank you, milord." Harry only nodded. He marked the man however. He had little compunction suggesting the use of the services of his **_child_**. Children were not supposed to fight wars.

"There might be one obvious solution to this, Heir Neville," Lord Cuthbert pointed out. "I do not know whether the elemental specified needs to be human. If that is not the case, Veela can take up both the Fire and Air part, or perhaps a Phoenix for Fire, and a Merman or Mermaid the Water part, at the very least."

"That would put a Centaur for the part of Earth," Lord Grimson extrapolated.

"I...I will admit that I never thought of that. It is also poetic in that all the so-called Creatures band together to destroy Voldemort. I will check the exact wordings and get back to you, if it is acceptable."

"Do so, Heir Neville. I have contacts with a Veela enclave. There is a Phoenix at Hogwarts, as well as Mermen and Centaurs. The Centaurs may yet prove difficult given their relations with humans, but I would believe it to be worth a try."

"I thank you, Lord Cuthbert, Lord Grimson. It just emphasises how important the Alliance is," Harry sincerely said, expressing his heartfelt gratitude.

Showing the Alliance that they were valued, and that their advice would be heeded, took long strides towards getting them squarely onto one's side. It was important given the two things in conjunction to the matter that were to be now brought up. It would also gauge how truly 'light' they were.

"Now that we are on the subject of Voldemort, there are two things still in our world that help people like him. One is the absence of meritocracy."

"There has always been meritocracy," objected Lord Dearborn.

"No there hasn't," countered Neville. "There has never been meritocracy, grandfather. I have done my research." He was the one to submit proofs. It was something he had worked on since the Umbridge trial, after being flummoxed by how someone like her could even be employed at all.

This process of using proofs was new to them, even though it was standard practice in the Wizengamot. It was the result of hours of painstaking work over months. "These are the available recorded results since the year Voldemort had applied for the DADA position. As you will see, each year I organised by the list of the toppers in each subject and overall. It is interesting to note that many of the recorded toppers are purebloods who often went on to enter Voldemort's service."

"That's not right," Lord Edgbaston protested. "My year had Elizabeth Smith as the topper in Transfiguration, Charms, Runes and Potions. It was not Mario Russell. He was a distant fourth!"

"Can you remember who were in between?"

"I was for both wanded subjects, second in my year, and third for Runes. I never took Potions for my NEWTS. Then there was Martina Henderson. She was third across the board, except for runes."

"You were already Heir Edgbaston by that time, I take it?"

"Yes Heir Neville."

"And were Ms. Henderson and Ms. Smith of at least partial non-magical descent?"

"Now that you say it, yes, it is true. Henderson was a muggleborn. Smith was a halfblood."

"That's precisely what I am trying to say. The results have been fudged all through the past years, though we have records of just thirty-five. I went through each of those years meticulously. Across the board, no less than forty-three of the Ministry Employees who have so far fallen foul of the oath, not including the former Minister Fudge, are on the list of the top ten. Those of non-magical descent were conveniently dead, or left the country."

"You are telling me that people were killed for grades?" asked Edgbaston sceptically.

"No. But better positions in the Ministry were used as bribes for the people in question to support Voldemort. The most common occurrence was in the Obliviators, and the Department of Magical Transportation. These were the ones who always had first contact with any place where a Death Eater attack took place, conveniently shutting down the Floo Network or ensuring there were no witnesses or even survivors. And then there were the employees of the Improper Use of Magic Office, who were the ones to know where newbloods lived and passed that information to them. There was also the modus operandi of creating false charges and attempting to expel students.

"It was quite easy to do it. Really, if this sort of beggary is my future, I would rather not learn magic."

The Alliance was not prepared for this good cop, bad cop routine that the two Houses inadvertently employed. But Neville's disgust was palpable, a living, breathing thing. And that last statement had actually shocked people. Beggary; he had used the term beggary, which essentially is what anything similar to reservations in any educational or employment scheme is. This was the Neville of the Hogwarts Battle, as he would have been around allies.

Hermione mentally ticked off one of the things she had read in Harry's diary. While she had powerful patrons, that was not universally true. Then again, this was not new. The magical world had a pro-pureblood bias. Many countries across the world had a bias against those supposedly higher placed on the social ladder in spite of its existence being illegal constitutionally.

"What would you have the Ministry do? Fire all purebloods this way?" McMillan sneered. Was this man part Death Eater?

"And once again you miss the point, Clan Chief. Most of the people who benefited from the scheme have fallen foul of the Oath enforced in the Ministry. However, this cannot remain our future, which is my only interest in the matter. The ones charged with making the laws that would protect our world failed spectacularly. So...well..." Neville shrugged expressively. "The House of Longbottom already has discussed an educational and examination system reform with the Heir and the newest Daughter of House Greengrass. You will find the simplest recommendations on the last three pages."

So it was Hermione who had taken up the part in the diary that troubled Harry the most ever since the cretin-ferret's outrageous claims just before the OWLs. Not that he was angry, but he just wished it would be after his own History OWL that the matter would be brought forth.

The people rifled through the recommendations.

"Competency tests? Attitude and personality, and aptitude tests with OWLs?" asked Lord Aldridge with a frown. "Are people incompetent?"

"Well, we know that they are, aren't they, if simple paperwork is missing, still over Lord Black's incarceration?" Neville retorted. "As for the latter, Dolores Umbridge comes to mind. I doubt any of us would have had that foul woman as an employee. Also, our world has a dearth of diversity. At least the students should be able to know what they need to learn."

The point was certainly well-made, if the decidedly sick expressions that the guests assumed upon being reminded about Madam Toad were any indication.

As would be the matter with so many tacitly accepted things being denigrated and debunked through the meeting, the final response was along the lines of "We never thought of this, please give us time."

The other part about Love Potions and ingredients being regulated was left for later. These people were having too many shocks to their systems. They did want the allies alive and well.

There was a small round of refreshments during which the question was posed to Dumbledore. Fawkes was not _his_. So Fawkes would decide whether or not to help. It was not Dumbledore's decision to make.

Then it was the Vassal's Induction. The Vaughns, the oldest of the lot, would go first. Clarence Vaughn, his wife Martha, daughters Mary and Viola and son Robert were the only people left. Each person had to swear fealty, something for which there had been nearly a year's delay, and Harry had to assure them protection.

"I, Clarence Shane Vaughn, hereby pledge my Fealty to the House of Potter. My wand, my magic and my life are for the Lord to command in battle, to the end that the Lord Potter desires, from this day forth. My Lord's secrets are mine to keep and his orders are mine to obey. I swear my allegiance to the House of Potter above all, on my magic and my honour."

"I, Hadrian James, Lord Potter, swear on this day, to consider the life, magic and wand of Clarence Shane Vaughn as I would my own, and thusly to protect him as I would seek to protect myself. I shall endeavour to ensure his and his family's continued prosperity."

That was the template for all the people. It took some time, but it was soon done – well almost.

When it was Dumbledore's turn, it was becoming increasingly obvious what his agenda was given his general reluctance to swear the oath.

It was a manipulation for those with the cynical mind. Naming Harry his Heir was legally allowed. Technically it was pointless. What was the point of having the Lord of three at least Noble Houses being the sole Heir to a Vassal House? In other words, it was his free ticket to his House being remembered in the same breath as any Liege House – Noble, Most Noble or any variant thereof – regardless of whether or not the House achieved that status.

Some could argue that Dumbledore had done enough even before Voldemort had come onto the scene to have his House achieve the status of Nobility, and that his reasons were purely borne out of familial relation.

Either way, he did go ahead with his plan.

"I, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore," he recited (making a lot of people cringe at the long list of names) "state that I do not have any living magical descendants of my body. The last known magical descendant of House Dumbledore is Hadrian James, Lord of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Potter and the Most Noble Houses of Gryffindor or Slytherin. It is my intent to name him my Heir."

It set the Kneazle among the Pixies. Nobody could protest really. But the "Is this true?" and its variants that were whispered made the room sound like it was full of hissing snakes. Even the sole Parselmouth in the room couldn't decipher the words, though the matter being spoke was obvious.

There were exactly four people in the room that Harry looked towards: Augusta, Neville, Sirius and Hermione, in that order. Augusta shook her head. Neville shrugged. Sirius mouthed 'Gringotts'. Hermione mouthed 'custodian Heir'. That was marvellous! His four advisors gave him four different reactions. Hermione's was the best, however, as it catered to everyone's wishes. It could be combined with Sirius'. It was a good thing nobody saw those furtive movements, or if they did, at least nobody spoke. Hermione was _actually_ Lady Potter in all but marriage and name and well...other things.

"Lord Hadrian...?"

"Professor Dumbledore is a cousin a few times removed, may be some degree of great-granduncle. That is confusing." He shrugged expressively, before resuming his mien of the Lord Potter. "While I am honoured by this offer, I admit that it makes me wonder whether it should be taken up at all. Should this be accepted, it makes no change in the status of House Dumbledore. The Headmaster is a legend and a legacy in and of himself. What could possibly be gained by co-opting it, when instead his name should be remembered by generations more for his deeds?

"At best, Professor, I could be a custodian Heir. Gringotts already has the mandate of checking the heredity of every newblood. This I can promise you that the House of Dumbledore will be resurrected within my lifetime. Or that to happen though, I cannot be at it head – not when I am already responsible for the three I already head." He refrained from adding that it wouldn't be within Dumbledore's lifetime in all probability.

There were a few moments after that where Dumbledore conferred with his brother, or at least appeared to. There was nobody they knew who seemed ashamed of their name and their relations, as Aberforth Dumbledore was. Harry once more looked to his advisors. Sirius and Augusta nodded. This was a fair compromise. Harry and Hermione shared a smile.

Augusta couldn't hold back a snort as she leaned towards Sirius and muttered, "Someone is trying to be Dorea, I see."

"For quite some time, it seems," he answered, not bothered in the least.

Dumbledore wasn't pleased at all. He really did want the line to pass on to Harry, who was the strongest person to revive it. While not entirely the idea, having their name taken in the same breath as Gryffindor and Slytherin and Potter, now that Peverell was gone forever, was something that really did appeal to him. Of course, he had not known about the absorption before the meeting, but it had solidified his nebulous succession plans. And what Harry had said to find a supposed middle way to ensure that he was not saddled with the House yet didn't have to say a straight no, had probably won the opinions of most of the Wizengamot members. The boy had portrayed himself as if he was the one having to live up to too many things and couldn't hope to step into his shoes. Even the other Vassals had agreed.

In the end though, since he had been so magnanimous with the promise, the Headmaster **_had_** to agree to the proposed way out.

That left the matter of what to do with the Wizengamot. They were now four votes short of what they would normally have been. It didn't matter much immediately, because a majority of the votes going against them were defunct.

This was a wonderful chance to bring up one thing that was important with that in mind; two things actually.

"Correct me if I am wrong, fellow members, but if I remember right, there is a vacant seat on the Wizengamot whose sole possible holder will be very sympathetic to our motions in the hall, given that he is likely to help draft them."

"Then why is the seat vacant?"

"The laws disallow him from being treated as a human for something that wasn't even his mistake."

There were frowns as people tried to remember which seat was vacant, and also what person was disallowed from being treated as a human as Potter claimed. "The laws forbid Wizengamot entry to vampires and werewolves," offered Madam Turnbull.

"And I'm a werewolf," Remus declared, breaking the Fidelius. He had been sitting with the Grangers, entirely unnoticed. There were obvious shuffles as people looked at Remus in horror. He had expected it. He really was not interested in the House Seat, but none of those who knew about his condition were willing to hear that out. He was Remus Lupin first. His monthly tax cut came much later.

"I would remind you all that this is exactly the sort of behaviour that helped Voldemort rise!" This time people did quiet down. Thus far, Harry had never been anything less than polite (or exceedingly so as far as McMillan went). So they had never been exposed to the powerful person who was the joint most powerful, and possibly the single most pissed off Wizard of their time.

"What gives you the right to class everyone into one bracket? Just because a four-year-old was bitten out of revenge, he becomes worse than the sort of murderers, rapists and what-nots that the Death Eaters were?" He was not shouting, but his voice was filled with controlled malice, nonetheless.

He walked to a nearby shelf and retrieved a stack of copies of something else that the almost-Lady Potter and he had prepared. "These are the Ministry released numbers of werewolves for the past twenty years. That's midway through Voldemort's reign. There have been recorded attacks by a pack of seven werewolves. Fenrir Greyback, Fenrir the Second, Romulus the Ripper, Adolph, Boris, Cana the Young and Louvel the Painter, were the seven. They are together responsible for every werewolf attack in the past twenty years."

"How do we know Remus Lupin is not one of those unreleased names?" asked Bluewater with a bit of distaste bleeding into her words.

"Because if I had, I would have already been put down," replied Remus simply. "I went to Hogwarts for seven years. Many of you or your relatives were my classmates. Neither did I ever join Fenrir, though I was required to wean people away from him during my time with the Order of the Phoenix and got away with twelve of them, nor did I ever attack anyone accidentally during my time at Hogwarts, though that has more to do with the precautions that Professor Dumbledore took, and also due to my friends. Sirius as the canine animagus was the one to be able to help me.

"And as for my name, well there is a law which was put in place after a law instituting a Werewolf Secret Registry was defeated by the House of Selwyn and its allies. Fenrir the Second was initially known as Lionel Selwyn, the true Head of the House instead of his brother – not that it would have mattered. Anyway, the law required victims of werewolf attacks to bear a marker or a name. I don't know whether you know of Nazi Germany, but this was much like compelling Jews to wear a Yellow Star. My original name was Luke John Lupin. Fortunately, given my surname, the name was considered to be fortuitous or ambitious. I adopted it legally the year I went to Hogwarts to prevent too many questions."

Barring Sirius, everybody stared at Moony open-mouthed. Obviously it was a very closely guarded secret.

"Well it shows you are a teacher Remus," Sirius inappropriately joked to break the silence. "You do explain well."

"What about now?" Bluewater snidely asked, once she recovered.

"Remus Lupin is the first werewolf who was registered with the James and Lily Potter Memorial Institute for Research in Lycanthropy. Before that, though he is family – my Uncle in all ways that matter. He is a person who I am proud to call family!"

Bluewater was having problems with Moony, as were most of the others. She was the only one to speak out though. That meant she was also having problems with Harry becoming combative on Remus' behalf.

"Before tempers erupt and cause discord, I have some questions," Lord Adams spoke in his deep voice. It might as well have emanated from the Marina Trench, as deep as it was. "Firstly to Headmaster Dumbledore – with what in mind did you allow Mr. Lupin to attend Hogwarts?"

"I always intended to do so. The Hogwarts Charter allows, or rather, requires me to admit any human student showing sufficient magical ability. However, the safety of the larger student population was something that was a loophole. It was for this that the Shrieking Shack was constructed. I will openly admit that Remus was a pilot project, someone for whom I had spent about ten years preparing. With education and a chance, I do believe that werewolves can be helped and brought into the mainstream magical world. Alas, as much as I would hope for it, I cannot actually change everyone's minds. The only matter was secrecy – if he was ever exposed, it would destroy him in every manner.

"It was why I did not give him the Head Boy's Position though there was no better candidate. Anyone who knew them would tell you that James Potter, as good a person as he was, was not Head Boy material. However, if Remus was given the chance, he would get many more which was something I wanted, but he would always be denied because of his Lycanthropy. With the war though, he became someone to trust and help us foretell attacks by the seven aforementioned ones."

"Have there ever been incidents?"

"Yes. Severus Snape worked out the absences – he had a particular rivalry with Remus and his friends – and went to the shack. James Potter saved him."

"So Mr. Lupin has not been a perpetrator."

"No Lord Adams."

"Mr. Lupin, I will say this honestly, I do not like werewolves, but I am sympathetic to your plight. Given by the photographs, it was Cana the Young who turned my brother and murdered my father. So with those conflicting views, or in spite of them, I will try to hear you out. What precautions did you take during Lord Black's incarceration?"

"Due to my affliction, I have never been able to find a job that I could keep. Most often, I have worked in shops, or as a tutor, or as a bodyguard in the mundane world. I have also sometimes worked as a waiter or a driver...anything that was legal and got me money. During these times, I would find the local playground, fortify its fences with stones or conjured metal – mostly the former – and cast mundane-repelling charms and silencing charms over every part of the place. I have never as of yet been able to get out of my fortification in wolf form."

He conjured a small playground model and exhibited his protective enchantments. People nodded at that.

"That proves that your intent was never to harm. What have you been doing since you joined the faculty at Hogwarts?"

"As Lord Hadrian informed, I am a registered member of the Institute. They give us all, a hundred and ninety two of us at last count, Wolfsbane Potion. There have been improvements since Potions Mistress Andromeda Tonks and Potions Master Damocles Belby infused various healing potions targeted at the nerves, bones and muscles. The combined effect is that I am now often as docile as a wolf animagus. The Institute also maintains heavily warded spaces across the country where its offices are located. Werewolves are allowed to roam there. We cannot get out. My space is in the mountains just outside of Hogsmeade. Lord Black joins me every full moon night. The Institute does need more volunteers like him though.

"As for my duties, I have placed a castle elf in charge of my office. Students having any doubts and questions deposit the same with the elf or ask Professor Flitwick who covers for me. I also employ several Occlumency-related techniques to ensure that my temper is under control."

"And what do you do away from Hogwarts?"

"All Potter properties are closed on Full Moon Nights. Since I was a welcomed guest here during the times of both James and Lord Charlus, there are strong-rooms here for my benefit. Mostly though, I prefer the larger spaces provided by the Institute."

People were hearing out with interest and patience which were either feigned or real, but were at least displayed.

Lord Adams nodded. "I can safely say that you take every conceivable precaution to prevent any harm to untransformed humans."

Those words were iconic: untransformed humans. In essence, Lord Adams was defying the Wizengamot edict and considering Remus as a terminally ill person at worst.

"Now, Lord Potter, I would know more about the Institute."

Harry told them all what he had decreed during the Disbursement of the Basilisk sale. "Now the Institute is becoming more self-sufficient. It owns land enough to grow its own ingredients, and the House of Longbottom has been helping when needed. That apart, several small businesses such as farming, apiaries, fisheries and such, have been started by the older werewolves on a cooperative basis with loans from the House of Potter directly at four per cent simple interest. Several of House Longbottom's employees are helping with the training. The werewolves above fourteen are given vocational training, chiefly directed towards the mundane world. Tutors have been arranged for the ones under fourteen. The results for the past year bear testament to the efficacy."

"There is no information."

"The page is not decorative sir."

"You mean to say there has been no attack?"

"Yes. We were in part, lucky. It turns out that the Dementor presence affected the werewolf packs as much as anyone else. It took time for them to regroup under Greyback – the vicious ones that is. He was killed around Yule. Professor Lupin spread the word among his contacts when he registered, so many of them registered, reducing the chances of any danger to themselves or others. A group of werewolf watchers affiliated to the Institute have kept an eye out for suspicious movements and have taken deterrent action. Louvel the Painter was executed by them in January. The truly turned werewolves value their humanity and the Institute, and a clean, attack-less period is there chance at that."

People were staring at the proof they were presented with. How long had magical Britain taken the wrong decisions? Death Eaters had been put into positions of power. Werewolves were bracketed with one monster and hunted. It was really shameful that it had taken a rich, but ragtag, group of teens, an escaped innocent and some old people to set things right.

"What do you expect?"

"Professor Lupin is the last Lupin and therefore the only one who can take the seat. The laws prevent that. Politically, having his vote and support on matters of importance is useful. Beyond that, he knows better."

Remus took up from there. "Providing werewolves with a voice is no longer the objective. The general situation is that werewolves understand that they are being given facilities and chances, which are adapting to their needs. Over the past twenty years, seventy three people have been turned. The Institute will eventually eradicate the disease, but not the people. That is enough. However, the existing werewolves are expected to live for a hundred years or so more. Till such time, a complete absence of constitutional discrimination is enough, which is all that my taking our House seat will show. We understand that people's beliefs can't be changed, but it is not a needed step either."

"That is all?"

"There is no point making laws for werewolf protection beyond that. The numbers will exponentially decrease."

This was a new thought. The nine month period since the previous June was proof enough.

"I cannot find an argument against this," Lord Adams declared. "The results need to be monitored over a longer period of time, but the start is promising. My House shall not forward a motion to this effect, Lord Potter. However, I shall openly support it. At the same time, I would request permission for my Spanish contacts to visit your Institute. This model can be replicated."

"It is autonomous. We only help as we can, where we can. Please contact Professor McGonagall, or Master Goldhaul of Gringotts. I am sure they can provide better guidance."

It was a major victory. One by one, several of the Houses gave positive responses, or at least agreed to think about it.

"That still leaves the matter of the other two votes. House Lupin votes for itself and the House of Coldstream."

"To this account, there is a suggestion. An Ancient House that had contributed a lot to the Art and Science of Potions has a new Heiress. It would have been elevated to Nobility, but for the last Lord having three squib children. Between the Houses of Potter, Gryffindor, Bones with Amelia's agreement, Slytherin and Black, we are willing to nominate this House. I am talking of course," Sirius gravely introduced, "of the House of Dagworth-Granger." It was now necessary to change the plans since they had lost one whole House.

"With the muggleborn?" asked McMillan dismissively.

"Yes. New blood has to be introduced into that decaying old hall. Might as well have a Newblood doing that," Sirius replied jovially. It took tremendous effort to not groan. Why was Sirius never serious enough?

"The House of Bluewater intends to nominate the House of Statham."

"That makes four. We cannot support that by law, but we accept it. Should that not go through, the House of Keller is a moderate traditionalist House, but the son has married a newblood and both work for Gringotts," Sirius suggested.

Harry grinned. Olivia Keller was their arch-rival, coming from the Lily White section of North London. It was all friendly rivalry, probably.

It was a slow start to it all, but there was some building up going on right there. Someone had spread lots of some 'catalyst for change' in the air.

* * *

"I would say that that went rather well." They were back at Hogwarts and obviously, letting things go was not easy.

"It was better still that we did not push for Luna's family to be elevated," Hermione added. "It would have seemed as if it was a one-sided demands meeting, though it was in many ways."

"They may be allies but they did need a reality check. I don't remember who told me that, but or a majority house to still allow the Imperius defence to stand, there had to be some sort of blackmail material on them," Neville pointed out, not seeing the paling of Hermione's face or Harry's scowl. "Anyway, I'll leave you two to whatever you get up to," he said with an exaggerated wink. "I need to take a shower."

The two sat staring at each other for a minute after Neville left.

"You are angry with me?" she asked with affected timidity. He always hated that tone and melted immediately. She was also a poor actress, so that ploy failed.

"Oh, no, no, no!" he bit out sarcastically. "How can I ever be angry with you?"

"Harry," Hermione started, realising that it had not had the effect she wanted. "Please listen. I just wanted to know more about the next ritual from Neville. I just had a solution."

"So you obviously thought that it was a just exchange – my secrets and plans for Neville's family secrets?" he asked her angrily. "What's the matter with you? What else did you show?"

"I never showed anyone anything!" she protested hotly. "I contacted Michael and mentioned what you had written in very vague terms and he wanted to know how things are done for competitive exams in the non-magical world. He then modified those."

"That's not the problem. It's what Neville said right now!"

"I did not show him the diary either, if that's what got you angry. I just asked him something after he showed me the response from the Ministry. He had problems reconciling with Umbridge ever being employed. He only showed that to me while you were gone okay? So I just asked the same question you have been asking in a very academic manner!"

"Can't you see that that will destroy the alliance if someone realises that that I what I am up to?"

"No. Neville has much the same reasons to ask that questions of them all. Neither of his grandparents had voted. He has vested interest too. I made sure that he would think that it was something he thought and something that should be shared with you."

"Thank Merlin for small graces."

"Don't you think I would have taken that much precaution?"

"Hermione, you don't get the point. When I show you things, they are to be considered secrets till we decide – together – to reveal them! When I show you something, it is a House Potter secret that you alone are privy to. Don't you realise that you just did something that a Slytherin Lavender Brown would have done? Getting information and using it, and divulging information and using it are two different things!"

"I accept it was wrong to just go ahead and use what you told me, but I had an idea that stopped long negotiations with other countries and contentious relations with other races and what-not. It is quicker as well."

"Gods! You're like a dog with a bone. Go on, enlighten me."

"I wanted to know whether the elementals were necessary as symbols or as drains."

"And? Don't stop with one sentence!"

"They are drains. They channelise the power from Voldemort into the element – a cascading waterfall, a burning, raging fire. Voldemort is powerful – too powerful. What do you think will happen if he is just drained? The fire will be a disaster. It will rain like a cloudburst. The raising of the earthen token will cause an earthquake. There will be storms, not winds."

Harry's anger and resistance crumbled to fine sand and was blown away.

"I...I am still angry that you did not talk to me, because that is common courtesy which should exist even between husbands and wives, and I would have extended to you. But I am no longer that angry." His voice was very small as he realised exactly what she was pointing at.

"Yes. But I had to intervene before you rushed in like a bull in a china shop. It's not hard to imagine the scope of the damage Harry."

"What do you suggest then?"

"Electricity, Harry. All we have to do is set up a power generator and sell the energy to Diagon Alley. At best it should take a week, no more. It will be a good trial, and plus he will be dead."

"But it will lend credence to their fears that "muggles can take away magic"!"

"I don't mind, but you are right. Anyway, I never said that they need to be told where the electric energy is coming from, did I?"

Harry nodded fervently. He proceeded to hug the stuffing out of her. "I am a little sorry, and even less angry."

"I am a little sorry and angry too."

He kissed her – a little deeper than usual and she responded just as eagerly, if after a huffing delay. It was only a lucky thing that there was nobody around to watch or spy on them. It was getting a bit too intimate for their age.

"How can I make it up to you?"

"You could teach me Animagus magic come summer,now that I have started my education in Mind Magic on weekends."


	53. Chapter 53

**Determined Madness**

A/N: This is laying the groundwork for something that JKR never truly touched – how would Harry handle failure? We only know that canon Harry was obsessed with things like the Hallows, and became snappy, but it all was due to absolutely no information given to them.

Here, he is going to attempt something totally new, and ending up in largely uncharted territory. So, this one reacts, as the title suggests, with determined madness. That means there is actual madness.

If this largely theory chapter is wrong in some places or has vagueness, please help me correct that. I am no engineer and have only made vague references to some things that were explained far too animatedly for me to understand. Thank you all reviewers, favourite-markers (just crossed 1k before this update) and followers. This is my last chapter for you.

 **CHAPTER WARNING: PLEASE DO NOT EQUATE A LINGUISTIC/CULTURAL REFERENCE TO ANY SORT OF RELIGIOUS REFERENCE. MAJOR PART THAT I HAD FORGOTTEN TO PUT IN HAS BEEN ADDED. SORRY FOR THE INCONVENIENCE.**

* * *

True to her nature, Hermione, the woman who had taken over the preparations for the final stage, had started in the one place her boyfriend would never think to look, so far as the preparations were concerned. This last part was very much a Neville Longbottom show, initially, before Harry would reprise the role of the executioner.

The first thing to do was to have every system in place. As much as she trusted Harry's assertion that there was no real reason why electronics didn't work or weren't used in magic-rich areas except for fear, she nevertheless required solid proof.

In other words, Sirius was once more required to be the load bearer. With Arthur Weasley in his official capacity in tow, and Mary Vaughn and the people from the firm she was apprenticing with along with them, the group could often be found testing the contraption, given the uninspiring name MEC-Pro-I. A good marketer its maker wasn't. Then again, most such appliances are so named.

As she had expected, there were problems with the whole thing. The blinking bulb was alright at Hogwarts, but the transformer used to step down the voltage bombed within seconds in the Alley. With the various production areas, and seemingly physics-defying forces in play, the poor thing died an early death as interference by the said forces, unimagined by and the unknown to the designers and makers destroyed it. It took over a month for them all to sort things out, including trying the things done for the electrical work at The Marauders' Place, and a partially successful attempt to make an inside out microwave oven prototype (in that the containment was aimed inwards to protect the appliances; they still had problems connecting the power to the thing though), before it worked.

It took close to a month and a half for that – a span of fifty days, in which even the alliance had made no progress at all. Disappointing didn't even begin to describe it. To be fair, the Cabinet Minister for Magic of the Republic of India had pointed out the same problem Hermione had. She had therefore suggested that if the British Magical Government was willing to use the test site for special weapons, help would be provided.

The idea was immediately scrapped. The non-magical politics, related to what was being referred to, were not favourable enough for Britain to take a stand either way. And that was even with only one person in the entire delegation on the British side having even the foggiest about what these special weapons were, as well as the completely bifurcated government for the two sides in the UK.

It was an impasse fraught with internal and international complications. The magicals had no intention of bringing the Voldemort problem to the notice of the muggles, even though there was no such requirement by the Houses of Potter and Longbottom. This meeting was therefore never mentioned by anyone to anyone – ever.

Once that was done, it was time to bring Neville in on to the idea. He marvelled at it. The idea was something that had once seemed mythical. But to see the simplicity converted him quite easily. From Luna, the reaction was a squeal. She could now access all those channels from the BBC.

Hermione was having the time of her life. It was thrilling. It was exciting for her. She was setting up something new, completely new. True, she had in no way contributed to the product or the idea. But administrating things or at least, given her age, pretending to do so, was _her_ thing. In that she had found what she wanted to do eventually. She liked to decide and _rule_.

Friends they were. But they were all so...young. And even Hermione was not out of that.

In all the wondrous attempts to get the magic of electricity to the magical world, they all forgot that the real world was no model of nobility or innocence or whatever other so-called good qualities there were that got people killed. The magical world was never, had never been, and would never be more under flux than it would be then. Many a savvy prospector would gain. And there were people who could control exactly who could gain.

* * *

It was the last weekend for the Hogsmeade visit. The Dragon still flew over the village for the sake of appearances.

In reality, Lord Griffinheart was once again at the London Branch of Gringotts, working on a secret appointment that not even Ambassador-Designate Sirius Black knew about.

" **Zu giritri ush** (You are early)," observed Goldhaul. He, Biggem, Rubyclaw and Hightab were to convene in the former's office.

" **Brokhthrakh khre Threnghi dezhu barutsh Mogral** (secrecy and punctuality both help profits)," reasoned the human. " **Brokhthrakh bori gruntre yanda ush.** (Secrecy is currently more important.)"

" **Kobursh ne groda** (Can't deny that)," the goblin said with a smirk. "Grog?" he offered.

" **Nark-groog, nere. Mirakhna gokhri Burongla striush, ekhtghri Threnghzinikh, okhursh makhthan. Eri Mirakhnari hakh jerndh ush**. (Thank you, no. I prefer having my wits about with me, particularly while messing about with time. Besides, it is too strong for me)."

Goldhaul shrugged and poured another cup and drank it too. " **Zunari rokh Tranghtharnth** (to your success)," he toasted.

Griffinheart merely nodded.

At precisely eleven the other three entered the office.

" **Pe Golgorath morishka sroth gorish** (So eager for the kingdom?)?" asked Hightab with a faint air of amusement.

" **Olgrafshuk khre Embodriandra Golgorath jarigdrasht sheudrukhush. Mirakhna etfodriush ne pe Rogalnu Brounkh, pe Hrenkthra, khre Threnghzinikh rokh grafshush.** (Wastage and Hesitation destroy great Kingdoms. I can't afford to waste the blood of the enemies, the chance, and time)" replied Griffinheart with more than a bit of irritation. " **Khre wigra Threnghzinikh grafplushush uth** (And we are wasting time now)."

The Garnarukran threw back their heads and laughed. It was, like their language, a thoroughly unpleasant sound. Even their laughter around other humans was different.

Goldhaul retrieved several ledgers from his cupboard, along with a long scroll. Harry frowned at it and tapped it with a wand. " **Othra, kone** (Scroll, really)? **Bori Glojh plush buth** (Many pages are easier)."

" **Tunda** (true)," agreed Goldhaul. " **Jave zu segladritush khre ungaldush** (Have you selected and decided?"

" **Utta** (yes). **Morndri kithshe jave Mirakhna** (I have made a list)."

In spite of the beaked mouth and the fangs not especially lending themselves to a whistle,

Biggem managed it somehow. " **Hutthi mlankush dedexi pandrungh arru zunari Khonghari** (That makes thirty percent of all your Vaults) **!** "

" **Dededrutxi** (thirty-three)," corrected Harry. " **Hutthi ush maba pe Knockturn Alley Document khre Anjoor Grikh/Jori Homarundnari. Herthi mlankush sebxi pandrungh mirakhnari Khonghari.** (This is apart from the Knockturn Alley Document and the Family Coalition Purchase/Investment. That makes it seventy percent of my vault.)"

Rubyclaw, who had hitherto been completely silent, made his displeasure known. He switched from Glenskrad to English. It was a way of demonstrating that it rubbed the goblin the wrong way. "I don't like it at all. It's too risky."

"It aggrieves you enough to switch to English?" asked Harry with a raised brow.

Rubyclaw only nodded with a severe look on his face.

"I can't and won't deny that. It is risky. However, this corners about forty percent of the Enchanting markets. This is something I have patents lined up for – something I have created myself."

" **Zu jave** (You have)?"

" **Utta**. **Mirakhna frosush kobursh. Ne Gongor jip Glenskrad mirakhna hungush kobursh oriprush par**. (Yes. I can explain. There are no words I know in Glenskrad that can describe, though.)"

"Well, tell us in English then."

"I managed to convert magic into electricity."

"That thing that powers muggle things," Goldhaul reminded his fellows. "So?"

"So? So now I am going to devote a part of that market share for magic-electric combination devices and appliances! I am putting that Wizarding Wireless out of business with live telecasts of Quidditch matches. Just telecast rights are massive businesses by themselves! If this is played right, the investment gives returns in millions of galleons!"

"I have heard that before Griffinheart. I have heard that often enough in my time funding non-magical artistes."

"They needed a good enough show Goldhaul. We already have that waiting to be shown."

"You already planned it?"

"We have been planning it all year, Biggem."

"What is it? A play, film?" he asked.

"We are playing what the mob wants, Biggem. The mob is a bloodthirsty entity, made up of so-called civil people. We will present to them the Death of Voldemort." He then uttered the words that every media-person has uttered across time and space. "We'll show them what they want to see." As it was, there really was more than a bit of truth to that.

It made Goldhaul queasy. "They think we are bloodthirsty beasts, but such an opening show is morbid even for my tastes."

"The need to protect the kingdom by not wasting the enemy's blood," replied Potter with a slight grin.

"I doubt it will be agreeable to everyone. For one, he will be practically rendered a non-magical. You give a bad message whichever way you do it. If you don't kill him, he could still be an intrinsically horrible person to become a murderous criminal anyway. There's no getting out of this."

"That's why a statement of power is needed."

"There are other ways to show that. We will come to it later," Goldhaul said, deferring the matter for later.

"And thereafter?" prompted Rubyclaw.

"The idea is to promote it as a trial thing, gauge their response, and in the meantime, set up TV pubs, as not everyone will want to buy a TV at first."

"TV pubs...like the non-magicals have for football."

"Yes. Each game will have a ticket – say two galleons. As such, match viewership will increase. With even a quarter of the profits shared with the league itself, the game would change. And there's the point of having several different company names and becoming kit sponsors. It's new even in the new English Premier League. Diversify to other countries, and we get more customers, wider visibility and a veritable empire. And all that will be without the revenue from the food and drink."

"Then what's the point of having nearly a tenth of all the revenue under one aegis directly or indirectly."

"We practically destroy competition, don't we? We keep them around to ensure there are no monopolisation charges, but corner the supply chain to keep them down – as Hermione said. This corners the manufacturing market too."

"I still have my reservations against this – the chief being that the magical outreach is simply not large enough for this to work. Magical humans simply don't have that large a population." He shrugged. "If you are dead set upon this course of action, I cannot order you otherwise. It is your money after all."

This pegged Harry back quite a bit. Rubyclaw was evidently the one taking a slightly pessimistic-realistic stand. So he backed down. "I do believe it is necessary. But I don't think I am so foolish as to discount any of your advice, especially since this was supposed to be the first phase towards building an industrial conglomerate with a view to the impending population boom, and I intended to have Hightab become the vault manager for it, with the rest of you on the board."

"That puts two things up," spoke up Hightab. "I know what happened to the Peverell House, and I am not even going there. Dumbledore cost me a practically dead House anyway, though the glory of raising it back from the dead would have been unparalleled. This chance is great. But I have to ask: a population boom?"

"Didn't it happen back in the 1950s and 1960s?"

"It did, but not so much really," answered Hightab.

"Was it because a lot many newbloods decided to leave there shores or at least magic?"

"We know of at least six thousand people leaving Britain, so it might not be untrue. But magical populations have never grown spectacularly."

"So there can't really be a forecast, and we can't exactly ask people to have more babies."

"Yes. I am not saying that this will never work, but my conservative guess for the idea to take hold would be three years. Optimistically, I'd say two."

"Oh."

"However," started Rubyclaw, "getting this done by stages is a better option. My biggest concern is that twelve percent of the Enchantment Industry is taken up by the Wizarding Wireless sets. What could be gained by investing in their stock? Their manufacturing assets are dead inventory if you intend to crash that industry anyway. Purchasing physical assets after production stops and, instead of manufacturing these TVs, retailing them makes far more sense."

"It is obvious that I did not think it through."

"Quite."

"It was actually a point of necessity, to tell the truth. Voldemort's actual raw magical power needs to be sunk."

"That can still be done in other ways. Here and now I am tasked with ensuring that you don't lose money, and since I know you don't take offence if I call a spade a spade, therefore making me actually feel bad if I take money when you lose it, here it is. I think your plan is stupid, ill-prepared, and a complete lemon. I am only opposing the acquiring of dead, dying or killable businesses, as I said. The...hardware...part of the new business will not yield enough to make good profits, and even then, not fast enough. You will be killed in the volume. I doubt many will buy a set per person."

"So what other way can an electric power sink be employed here?"

"Look around you, Griffinheart. I have had one meeting in a non-magical bank once with a Mr. Tonbridge. They had air-conditioning, fans and computers and what-nots. Yet what struck me most was the love they have for well-lit rooms for deals. I will even admit that our stone halls, or those of Hogwarts, seem entirely too dull and dreary. You don't have to manufacture everything – just adapt. Which brings us neatly to the question – how do you intend to get the electronics to run here?"

"A member of the vassalage was supported in that quest. They managed to make a completely non-magical protection gear for all devices."

"So that is the answer for you. Don't go after that market. Create a new one. As of now, we know that at least sixty percent of all magicals have non-magical antecedents – though the number may be wrong, which is something we need to immediately rectify. They will find this a huge opportunity. Get light to the magical world. Tube lights, white lights, everything. At a fraction of the cost, you will get much better returns. Then you can go after an Enchantments Market that will need to adapt to this new avenue."

"So append to existing resources to supplement possible cost escalation, change the industry to suit our needs and acquire assets?" Harry summarised.

"Precisely," agreed Rubyclaw. "Rewalka's blessings are with you, young Griffinheart, but you are not an Account Manager yet."

Harry blinked at the reference.

Rubyclaw grinned horribly.

Some things were better left untouched.

"Another way out," suggested Hightab, "is to own TV sets as you said and possibly come up with an alternative transmission system which doesn't require the electronic machinery and is easier to produce in lower volumes."

"That's easy, considering the mirrors we use. It's just a minor step up from there."

"Then instead of the satellite costs for TV transmission, you should use that."

"I think that I have gained a perspective of your problem, Griffinheart," Biggem spoke. "You are attempting to non-magicalise everything, so to speak. Not everything needs or has such a solution."

"I can't deny that. Then again, I grew up in that world."

"Only a foolish Garnarukro would dismiss that world Unsgrongd (young Garnarukro), but at the end of the day you need balance," he remarked.

"Maybe a pair of channels for the alternative system will be enough to start with," Harry proposed. "It is intended that Luna, my sister by oath, would have the running and handling of the same, with it eventually being a gift in celebration of her matrimonial bliss when the time comes."

"There might be gift taxes involved."

"Aren't there always?"

"Not if you start it in her name, and transfer it at the appropriate time."

"With the profits being transferred to her," Goldhaul added.

"That works for me."

"You know, Griffinheart, you've now got the first failure as well – as far as your plans go that is. You came here half-baked you know. There is nobody here with any knowledge of media transmission and licensing." Rubyclaw narrowed his eyes. "Come back with a better plan and we'll see. We still get paid for this meeting you know."

Harry took that chastisement into his stride. This had been his "When my Account Manager hears of this..." moment.

"My apologies, Account Manager," he said in a low voice. "In my excitement and haste regarding the final resolution of the Voldemort problem, I was quite underprepared for this."

"Yes, but you now know what to do. Just don't become like other humans. You are rather agreeable."

"I think I do."

* * *

In the tent, as frustrations ran high, or in the aftermath of Dumbledore's death, Harry had been struck hard by failure. He had turned snappish, distant, and, in general, since there was not much grey matter being used in any case, ineffective.

And he had just faced a failure. It was, he would realise years later, something very normal in the corporate world. The R&D department was always putting up something new in type-2 businesses and it was almost always scrapped at the first shot. The only thing was that he had been shot down where his own money was concerned. And he couldn't even honestly say that he had tried his best.

He hadn't been much for pride before, but more than magic, which was something that had only been an addition for less than half his life, having something that could be called his own creation had engendered it in him somewhat. And that wasn't a bad thing, so long as it wasn't excessive. And he had just received a dent to his pride.

So he chose something better than his previous responses. He chose to hit back with better plans, accomplished ideas, and some degree of vengeance – not against the goblins of course.

Out came the Time Turner. And precisely one Dobby was called in. It was Harry's day of being scolded. "You is being mad," Dobby informed him, slipping from his well-learnt grammar. "And you is being becoming more madder if you is doing that."

"I know. But now there is something at stake. I need you to keep an eye on all me's Dobby."

Dobby gave him a most unimpressed look. He slowly reverted to the correct form of the language he had resorted to butchering. "Luna, I am calling her. Just don't do anything mad like meeting your various forms through time. Anything madder than you already are doing, that is."

The elf, if his ways were disconcerting for other humans, found this human disconcerting as well, when Harry grinned at him. Dobby popped away. The earlier they got Luna around, the better everything would be. Of the two people who could either dissuade or control his flights of impetuousness best, only she was in the castle still.

She duly arrived with her books and homework. "You do realise that there is a strong chance that you will end up either killing some temporal self of your own or go mad?"

"Yes."

"Good. Just thought you should know," she responded brightly. "If that happens, I will write your obituary. Please, I get to do that don't I? Please? I will make sure it is lengthy."

"You're having too much fun."

"I am allowed to do that. Nobody else gets to be as annoying as I can and still get away with it."

There was not one good argument against that which could hold water. "You are supposed to be a good little sister."

"You're adopted, Harry," she replied impudently. "I can say that, quite honestly. But then I am adopted too. I am, am I not? You did adopt me as a sister." Joking was not natural for Luna, who was often literal minded.

"Yes we have adopted each other," Harry confirmed, before he stuck his tongue out at her. "I wanted to give you a gift, but that can now wait for many years."

"A present!" squealed Luna. "What is it?"

"As I said, you were mean to me. I can wait for years to give it to you. You can't even wheedle it out of Hermione and Neville. They don't know."

Luna only smiled innocently at him. They paced outside the Room of Requirement and the door opened to reveal a ten roomed space. One room was where Luna sat studying and keeping an eye on things. The other nine were where eight of the nine Harrys would go berserk after the first half hour when the temporally constant Harry got a note from another Harry about an idea. One of them was the runner to the library, should the Room of Requirements actually reach its limits or if it was necessary to ask someone for help.

And berserk was the best word to describe things.

* * *

The first thing to be addressed as far as a broadcasting system went was capturing long image sequences and associated sounds. There was obviously one person who'd immediately be called up for that.

As far as unquestioning loyalty and willingness to help went, Colin Creevey was right up there with house-elves. He probably wouldn't even complain if he was used as a guinea pig for some experiment. He would probably ask to have photographs of everything. Perhaps he could do something like William Stryker and turn Colin into...? No. It would be a catastrophic waste of Adamantium if it was found in real life.

Harry-1 (the one in that first room, for reference) shook his head. He was wasting valuable time. He would return to the Colin Conundrum later. He simply explained that he was trying to create a camcorder for the magical side, and Colin was ready to help anyway he could.

One perplexed looking Colin Creevey with his magical camera was deposited into the room. It was dismantled (after all, he was practically a photography savant). Colin showed how it worked, and with the help of the user's-and-repairer's manual, it was deconstructed, decoded, understood and then rebuilt. If the whole six hours of time that it took for the whole process perplexed the poor boy, he didn't show it. By the end of the six hours, he had mostly lost his hero-worship (after hearing less than half the random pearls of ideas and surviving through the resulting mental images) and was very much out of his shell.

It was simple. The flash of the camera was normal and timed for two second. The shutter actually worked on the principle of tolerance and attenuating switch jitter. It took in both exposure and the magic from those being photographed to augment the light changes for the moving images. This meant that it took hundred stills for the exposure to diminish to 'poor' and all the magic drawn in was used up in that time period. A kind of space and matter compression potion was applied during the development process – essentially the inverse of the thing Hermione had used on her beaded bag fused the hundred film portions into one. The rest of the camera was practically the same.

The camera, which, without contact by magical materials or spells, managed to draw magic from others, was among the most powerful enchanted objects available.

While Harry didn't exactly know this, the pictures taken by the Magical Cameras were essentially what the non-magicals called the .gif format, which was first revealed in 1987. It was a sad testament to the lack of progress in magical technology. The moving single photographs were already available since the 1860's, and yet magic had not progressed to videography. It presented many problems.

The first problem with videography was storage. Magicals had no use for memory chips, seeing how they could remove and reinsert their memories and view them using pensieves at will. However, for broadcasting, a pensieve was useless. While the photographic films were alright for still cameras, for the .gif, it was inefficient. There was no need to add that for an actual video, it would be infeasible.

The closest thing that came to it was the Omnioculars. They were limited in their scope as far as time went – barely five second. Also, there was no way in which the event could be shared. It was a big challenge.

"I think I understand how you want it," the younger boy said after he had heard it all. "My cousin's a programmer. He told me something about the FIFO and LIFO storage systems and stuff. We can arrange each frame."

"First in first out, yes. But it needs something to go inside see."

"Yes, I do understand. But movie cameras have film rolls. That can be adapted directly."

"It's unwieldy for personal use. We do need something like a chip."

"How? We don't have anything resembling bits."

"Lumos and Nox?"

"We don't have the semiconductor thingies working here without being fried, even if we knew how to make them," Colin pointed out. "Why can't we just attach those pen-things to TVs?"

"The memories are like ectoplasm, mate. We might as well breed ghosts while we are at it."

That one sentence was enough for both to shudder. The idea of Helena Ravenclaw and Old Nick the Newly Neck-Cut going at it was...well...ahem.

"For the love of all that is holy," Colin murmured.

"I have stopped. I have."

A few minutes were spent warding away the spell of nausea.

"Maybe we could try a flip photo-book?" suggested Colin. "You know, perhaps make it more interactive, drawing the viewer into..."

"No. No. That sort of thing was what set the basilisk last year."

Colin dropped the idea like a bad job.

"There has to be _something_!" the older boy grumbled as he paced.

"Maybe we could, you know, freeze the memories?"

Harry wrinkled his nose and withdrew a meaningless memory on his wand. The silvery, transparent, thick fluid goo around the wand... "Tell me what the first thing is that you'd think of when you see this," he challenged.

It took a few moments for both to collect themselves.

"Isn't there anything that the magicals have that isn't in some way disgusting?"

"For every ten nice things we find, we get a hundred of this kind."

"I just hope they never send you out to help introduce muggleborns..."

"Say newbloods, Colin. It's the first step towards eventually destroying all three words."

"Well, alright, newbloods; I am just saying that they should never send you out to do the job. You will keep more people away by telling the most disgusting truths."

"Set aside by itself, one could almost mistake that thing for gelatine, you know."

"That rather proves his point, Harry," cut in Luna. She had come in to check up on them. "It's lunchtime you know." She then saw the memory glistening from Harry's wand. "Your wand is dripping, Harry," she observed.

The boys couldn't take it. They started whimpering.

"By the way, what do you think of my Spectrespecs?" she asked, donning the large things. "They help protect people from Wrackspurts by making them visible to the naked eye."

Colin was sure that he was a friend of Harry, but not enough to make fun of or to scoff at Luna. Marietta Edgecomb still shrieked if someone made so much as a 'woof' around her. There was never any manner in which any incident was traced back to him, but everyone _knew_ that he had done something. Several Ravenclaws had developed a crippling fear of just being around the girl. So he just settled for a polite, "What are Wrackspurts?"

"They are creatures that make people's brains go fuzzy. They also prevent people from looking at things in other ways as well as focusing on memories." She smiled sweetly at Harry. He blinked at her dumbly. So much for the hint, then, she decided. "Let's get to lunch."

She would at least have fun watching him eat enough for nine of him, all the while trying to explain how he was there while he was supposed to be in Hogsmeade. Her wish was unfulfilled. Strong disillusionment and notice-me-not charms meant no student saw him. As such, only Minerva, who oversaw the school while Dumbledore kept watch from his tower, recognised the charms and then realised who it was that had done it. Her lips pursed into a thin line.

"She is going to scold him," Luna giggled quietly. That was fun as well, sometimes.

It took a whole ten minutes of lunch before Harry took the hint. It amused the girl to no end, watching the dawn of realisation.

"Luna! Luna! Lunalunalunalunaluna..." he chanted in a whisper as he looked at in awe. Obviously he hadn't yet reached the articulation stage.

"I am aware that that is my name," she replied simply, before slipping the Spectrespecs on again. "Do you have Wrackspurts again? Are you having trouble remembering my name? It doesn't look like that."

"I want your Spectrespecs."

"I have a pair for you," she answered, handing him another of those things. They might be useful, but they were still aesthetic monstrosities. Nobody would buy them as they were.

"If I whine, will you give me your pair?"

"No."

"Please?"

"No."

"Bad Luna!"

"No."

Even pouting, puppy-dog faces didn't work. Not even a slobbery lick by and the frantically wagging tail of a real pup which was furrier than her Krupp, Golem (Luna loved puppies; who doesn't?), worked, apart from a good scratch to his side and muzzle, and being passed some chicken. So he had to take the pair she handed him.

To say his view of the world changed was an understatement.

True to Luna's words, the Spectrespecs actually helped to focus on something, anything with frightening intensity. In terms of a familiar reference, it was as good as being invaded by a Legillimancer of at least Voldemort's quality. _That_ was how good the Spectrespecs were.

"Will you teach me to make one?"

"What are you going to do with it?"

"Improve the design to include a couple of things, and then register a patent for House Lovegood?"

"With House Slytherin since you will be modifying heavily?" she countered.

"If you say so," he agreed. This was all going to be hers anyway.

"And you will teach me to be an animagus."

"Same answer I gave Hermione..." he started, and then blinked as the Spectrespecs focused all his concentration onto the problem of ensuring that he never encountered the problem. He just had to confound himself to believe they were clothed long enough for them to wear some clothes. "Oh. Done. Why didn't anybody tell me to do this?"

"Nobody else thought of it either." She stared at him as he wore the large glasses. "You know, the Spectrespecs make one feel stupider than one is."

"I am not stupid!"

"It was a general statement. Don't you know your pronouns?"

Luna had to have that last word, and Harry decided to cut his losses.

The Spectrespecs were scarily wonderful things. It was a masterful object showcasing charm work. The bases were the Legillimency Charm, Compulsion Charm, a modification of the charm used to _modify_ memories which extracted the memories, and something that people dabbling in search engines would know – weighted searches, and a way to detect the response intent, affirmative or negative.

If one thinks of anything, say a particular book, the various keywords or key ideas would be the title, probably the book's cover and such, the subject matter, the author's name and other such facts. That would be the factual memory. Then there would be the memory cues born from either emotional responses, such as a friend losing herself in her reading, or sensory memory such as the memory of squinting at very small print, or a combination of both, such as the crisp scent of new books which can make most people happy, or the sheer contentment of sitting in a warm chair in front of a crackling fire on a winter morning with a hot beverage.

All of that would spring from many tangential memory cues, as even the smallest part of a memory can remind one of other things. Memories are complex things.

But what the Spectrespecs did, essentially, was clear the neural pathways to focus on each cue. Unlike the many things sold during the OWL and NEWT examination times, this was a real concentration aid. It just grabbed each referenced memory and brought it fully into focus. It was only a few short steps from a pair of Spectrespecs to a true video camera, as the focused memory could be easily extracted.

This was not completely good. For example, if for a certain person, the idea of books is associated with his girlfriend, and if that someone was a teenage boy and therefore likely to...well, everyone knows what teenage boys think of for the most part. Just having a way to share and letting it be unchecked would expose the deepest fantasies to those with whom the video-sharing was opened. It needed a lot of work.

"I've got an idea!" he exclaimed all of a sudden, startling both Luna and Colin. And in a startling accurate imitation of Hermione, he rushed off to the Library, fully forgetting the Room of Requirement which could do just the same.

The same sources he had used when Sirius was contacted were brought out en masse. And they found a clutch of charms that could be used before running into the next problem. There simply wasn't enough Arithmancy known that the job could be done without help. Charms being non-matter magic, their combinations needed a lot of work, and that was NEWT level stuff. They also needed to be renewed periodically. So it was back to Runes and heavy inspiration from Scott Summers' protective eyewear.

Four hours later, a pair of completely unwieldy glasses with a very heavy and thick frame, were ready. They were able to do everything the Spectrespecs were able to do, technically. It was augmented by the discovery (or rediscovery) of the runic bit – the lock rune. When placed at the start of any sequence, depending on whether or not it was "locked" it worked as a '1' or a '0'. So it was easy to use it with much the same logic as that of a computer program. This allowed the 'Looking Thing' to have a zoom function, memory selectivity and retrieval (in the Spectrespecs mode after selection; there was an attached test-tube-like thing). Sharing of the memory through (obviously) the Protean Charm and its connector symbol also was now possible.

Creating a new thing is not easy as it seems. It is unappreciated if people are unaware of the months lost trying to find things that exist and understanding how they work and the scores of dropped plans and dud ideas. Most people only count the time taken by the last breakthrough.

"We need to demonstrate this..." Colin excitedly started, but words failed him as far as the naming went.

"Bad-looking, highly-useful, bulky pair of not-Spectrespecs?" completed Luna, describing it completely and literally.

"Yes."

They spent the rest of the time grabbing videos of every place around Hogwarts, after slipping Harry-2 a note to add an interface if he could.

* * *

Harry-2 came into existence thirty minutes (the minimum amount of time that the Time Turner could turn) later. It was a Deus Ex Machina of epic proportions, he realised. If he already was wearing a time turner and then decided to go back to a time he was wearing a time turner, there would be two of him and the time turner as well. He wrote a note to Harry-1. Now if each temporal version of Harry that existed at a given time travelled back in time simultaneously, they were introducing many mountains into the time stream as it were, and destroying the safe use theory. In essence, unlike that time when they rescued Sirius, their past selves were also their future selves, perhaps, or at least the two coexisted and were communicating. Anyway, they were all versions of a time turned Harry, and he wasn't supposed to be real.

In other words, Harry intentionally destroyed his understanding of reality as it existed, so that a particular 'he' would not know whether or not he existed. If he did, then he made some concrete notes which were real. There was no way anymore to know which Harry's future self or past self he was. If he didn't, he would still remember doing something like that and remember it anyway.

The good part was that the first Harry – the Dragon – would be the only one to exist at the end of the day. One Dragon and 'n' others would be awkward. He was sure that not even Hermione or Sirius could stand more than five of him, though the latter would be over the moon just imagining the amount of trouble his godson could get into, probably with far too many alibis.

Of course, one of the Harry's had to trust this, because the one who was the dragon had turned back in time to go to Gringotts and was now Harry-1, but he had already lived through the whole thing.

Years later, this landmark day of confusion would be renamed the Inception Day instead of Invention Day after the Christopher Nolan film, as the lone surviving Harry at the end of the day was required to believe that everything was real and he was real.

Harry-2, on his part, decided that he would do the transmitting, once Dobby had come with a note from Harry-1 about what he was doing.

As things stood, there already was a unidirectional transmission system existent – Dumbledore's Hogsmeade Monitor. However, it had both limited coverage scope and it also needed to be expanded for public broadcasting.

The solution, as compared to the 'Looking Thing' was pitifully simple. Repeaters, just as they are in wireless communications. All it took was enchanting things as they were on the mirrors, something that Sirius had since taught him to make. Two birds in tandem with their respective monitors would simulate the stereo vision. The monitors would be mounted on a plate, the linked backside of which would work on the principle of the mirrors' transmission. This increased signal fidelity, really. It was only then that the need for checking the signal just before the last point occurred. Transmission losses occur everywhere along the line.

So this Harry had to reverse the process of videography to take samples. It was a good thing that the video storing thing was now in place. It was not the job of one person. Two of the multitudinous Harrys came over to help.

"Which one are you?"

"Who cares? We already know we are doing something like this, so we already know that we will meet ourselves several times over."

"Fair enough," muttered the first. "That Looking Thing is the starting point."

"Along with the camera," reminded the third.

"And how should the correlation be?"

"Computers use colours."

"So Colour identification with a microscopic lock rune?"

"Size?"

"As small as possible."

"That's stupid."

"As small as we can possibly shrink the combination?"

"How small?"

"Let's try."

It was a good first try. But it was also a spectacular failure. None of the Harrys knew how the RGB thingy worked. Their colour dictionary consisted of the twelve colours available in the basic crayon box.

The problem was that they were assuming the theoretically known things – without any idea about the background work regarding setting up the antennae, for that was what the things effectively were. They might as well have been inventing the stone wheel for all the sophistication that was imagined for the most pessimistic cases – again, in spite of the Garnarukran reprimand about non-magicalising everything. Leylines, magic rich structures were what caused the interference. But as a start, it was decent. More than Rome was being built in a day. It would be improved over years.

Now they were not actual engineers, and they had not exactly read so much as to actually know things. So this went into the 'ask for help' bin. There really was no true long distance transmission. The mirrors worked, but that was probably because they were a closed network consisting of eight mirrors, and even they were not all connected to each of the other seven. Magic helped the trade-off.

So, eventually, they just settled for increasing the range.

Twelve years later, Media Mogul Luna and Bathsheba Babbling brought forth the coded magical message transmission before expanding the same to include protected signals from non-magical sources, thereby bringing the TV to every magical home.

People praised the advent of communication technologies. Most people assumed that entertainment and the message that the shows gave helped reform beliefs and foster lasting peace and brotherhood. That was hippogriff dung.

Far too many people wasted their time glued to the thing or discussing about the shows to harbour thoughts of becoming a Dark Lord or Lady.

* * *

The rest of the Harrys were on call, and therefore since they had nothing better to do, they had the little problem of Voldemort to consider.

One of the best and worst things in any project is the group work. If the people click together, sparks fly, and wonders happen. If people don't click together, sparks fly, and people keep wondering what might happen. In a group of many ones, it was rather difficult to not get along with another one of the same. And many minds of the same mind were thinking on several parallel tracks, and each other mind was instantly be to keep track. The crowd was the company of many ones which were in a manner indistinct.

Electricity would come. But as it stood, it needed a lot to go from proven possibility to production. In other words, he didn't know the smallest bit about it.

There was a weird moment when there was contemplation about building a single passenger capsule and launch him off into space. But then all the pesky physics stuff would come into picture. It was again a matter of not knowing enough, and not having enough time to know it.

Plus, matters originating on Earth should be dealt with on Earth. There was no need to dump garbage into space, even though at the rate that it was created and would continue to be created, would eventually require that solution about a century later. Moreover, beyond just a technomantic gimmick, it would not mean much in the long run, when, as with all technology, it got adapted for commercial use.

The magic of Voldemort had to be used up for something meaningful. It had to be a message, and the message had to be immortal. Voldemort – Tom Riddle – had symbolised Death to thousands of people. But his magic had not been bestowed upon him for that – it was not bestowed upon anyone for that. Magic was supposed to be for a higher purpose, to find that which those without it could not, and to cooperate and grow in harmony with those things that magic could not accomplish.

It was beauty. And it was life.

And in that was the answer hidden.

When it came to one of them, the answer seemed so absurdly simple, that it was almost dismissed out of hand.

"That's rather brilliant!" exclaimed one of the others. "It solves all the problems!"

"All? How does it solve the problem of wind and fire?"

"It's not wind, really, is it? It is air!"

"Ah, yes of course! But fire?"

"We will call in a few materials through the ministry, such that I am pretty sure that the prospective sources will be probably very happy for us to take of their hands."

"And so will burn the flame of life!"

"Quite so indeed."

It was written down. The room duly provided a map of England and of the old Death Eater properties. There was the Malfoy Manor, the Carrows' place and several more such places. There were also a few known abandoned small industrial sites. And then there was of course space in both the Diagon and Knockturn Alleys.

Some places were close to abandoned coal mines. Some were close to other areas of interest. There would be quite a bit of work needed, but if this worked, the death of Tom Riddle would work to perpetuate life.

And that would be the greatest gift of all.

A list of requirements, a bunch of sources, a note Neville, another to Professor Sprout, and one Harry running off and returning from the Library later, the groundwork was done.

So it was put in front of Luna for her to judge.

She looked through it thoroughly, looking at the maps, making a small correction here and there. But it was all done with a growing smile on her face. When she was finally done, she gave off a big, big smile. She then hugged him hard.

"Sometimes I fear you might end up doing the wrong things. And then you pull out something like this, and that tells me that I have the best big brother ever!"

* * *

It was all proceeding like any project. The sheer number of about-turns and back-and-forth, iterative, dropped plans would drive most people mad. Sirius said as much when he was told of the inability for the Riddle-Electric project to start by the Solstice. And just like in any project, there is sometimes a light at the end of the tunnel, particularly when one is expecting a train.

Exactly a week after the day of many Harrys, a very unexpected, but as it turned out a very welcome pair of guests turned up to meet Harry and Sirius in Dumbledore's office – because it was the most convenient place to do so.

One of the people was known – it was Shri-Kulapati Patil, the father of the Patil twins, Parvati and Padma. He however, shuffled in the background, as a very small, old, crumpled man dwarfed everyone else in the room. He seemed as benign as a lotus in a pond, yet, however, he seemed a reservoir of power, wisdom and knowledge so ancient, that it was enough to intimidate anyone. As it was, it was very obvious that Dumbledore too had not dared to sit, as he looked upon the fair, green-eyed, saffron-clad man (who was taking in the sights of Hogwarts with just a smile) with such respect that people doubted he was capable of according to anyone. The two younger men just stood transfixed in bewilderment, unsure what to do.

Thankfully, Mr. Patil gestured frantically at the two to join their palms and bow in greeting.

It was then that the man's expression changed. He gave the two a look that went beyond the piercing look that the Headmaster used when he seemed to try and intimidate someone or as a mask for his Legillimency. This was neither. It was a feeling of being judged. Somehow, being deemed not worthy by this person would seem like a devastating failure. The man just smiled again. He beckoned to Mr. Patil who came forward and stood a little behind the man deferentially, and said something to him in the ancient tongue, thought to be dead in daily use. Then again the same was thought of Latin.

"He says that you are in equal parts human, demon and divine as all are supposed to be, though the last has been suppressed a lot. You have done things both good and bad, with intentions of great purity to those of great cruelty. And you have sought to embrace both, an attempt that will end in disaster. He advises that you learn to control the unsavoury part of your nature, for it has the ability to overshadow what good you can do, sullying the great gift you were given," the Wizengamot member informed the teenager.

To Sirius, there was another message. "You have yet to know what you are and what you were. In the gift given to the child, you were given the greater gift of life. Use it well. Your paths take you farther, though how far that will be, is something only you can decide. This though you should know – the path of knowledge and peace will serve you better, as the child's father in heart. Chariots have horses and chariots have wheels, but it is the charioteer who has the ability to truly chart its course. The reins are in your hands, and in the hands of another. Know when this other has to be the charioteer and when you have to be the one. A dog is loyal. A dog also gathers straying flock."

Just a simple nod of their heads wouldn't have sufficed. The old man knew exactly who they were, what they had done and what the gift was. Unlike others, he knew what to do with the knowledge. So they joined their palms and bowed again. It wasn't the traditional way of paying obeisance, but it seemed to have passed muster for the time-being.

But then he turned to Dumbledore and continued, "You have been given a gift as well. You have the greatest gift anyone can have – freedom from regret. You yearn for a path that was never yours. Your time has passed. Revel in your freedom and in the forgiveness that is not always spoken. Do not wish for something that you will wish you had never wished for, my boy. Many paths have led you here. Those same paths could have corrupted you into something you would be ashamed of."

Dumbledore looked stricken for a moment. But even he knew to take the advice.

There was a moment of eternity, when the brick and stone and all the magic they thought they had known, was meaningless, as they ruminated over what they had been told.

Then the man laughed a clear laugh that would have suited Tom Bombadil, as he struck the ground with the end of what had seemed to be just an old, unadorned branch working as a walking stick, letting of a tone similar to bells that had Fawkes happily warbling. He then sat cross-legged on a rough cloth that appeared. It was obviously only functional. Sirius eyed that oddly. He received a toothless grin and some words, which Mr. Patil translated as, "There is never any need to waste magic on things that are unnecessary. A silken seat will seat me only as well as this cloth. It then serves no greater purpose."

Sirius flushed and nodded. The being, for calling him an old man, though true, was just thoroughly an incomplete description.

"Headmaster Dumbledore, Lord..."

"Please. Please call me Harry only. This is not the place for my titles. I have been taught a lesson as Harry, and in the here and now that is what I ought to be."

"The same for me," both Sirius and Dumbledore agreed.

"Indeed. Albus, Harry, Sirius, it is my great honour to introduce you to Mahacharya, which means the Great Teacher. That is all we are allowed to call him. The Mahacharya is a legend in our country, older than Merlin, to compare with this country's records. They belong to a branch of magic that is tied to the very magic of life, nature and the very Universe, and hold no true adherence to any land, or people or anything else, bar those that need their help. It is said that the Mahacharya and his disciples, and the succeeding members of the branch brought magic to the subcontinent. The greatest honour was for him to come to us himself. It is rarer than rare. He ordered my brother-in-law to bring him here. I have not the slightest idea what it may be about."

Having experienced the same, there was little doubt that the legend was not a myth.

The man beckoned to Harry and patted the small seat that appeared next to him. It was set slightly higher. This was recognised as a test. If indeed the seat was taken, then the words Sirius had heard were not taken into account. By extrapolation, then, the advice he had received would not be headed either. So he simply took off his shoes and socks, and sat barefooted, facing the Great Teacher, his robes covering his feet, on the floor. He then placed his wand on the seat.

The Teacher smiled widely. In a voice more ancient than anything they had to compare, he spoke without opening his mouth, "A lesson applied is a lesson truly learnt. Respect this gift of magic. You have made many mistakes and stumbled many times. Any gift is never to be squandered. If it is abused, it must be bestowed on those more worthy. When your people came asking some time back, they had not yet realised the fact that magic cannot be simply released. It is an energy that must be put to use. The purer the use, the greater will its potency be.

"I have known of this great evil that your people have been troubled by. They fear the power that this evil wields, yet they do not stand against its true manifestation – the thought. It has been the bane for my people also. This means that they do not want to be helped. Then I knew of the blessing you received, and I saw you wasting it in fear of all that could be."

Harry almost opened his mouth to ask how, but then thought better of it.

"The Great Spirits talk to us, child, just as they do to the little girl you call a sister," the Teacher answered.

Harry simply nodded.

"I was not happy with what I saw then," the Teacher continued. "That which destroys the harmony and peace of the world must be remedied. Evil must be **_vanquished, destroyed_**. The bad must be **_punished_**. There is that difference that you did not see – not until seven days ago. You were trying to use the magic of your enemy to punish him, and to kill.

"Tell me, child, do you wish to harm this enemy once you had done that? Do you wish to seek revenge, after he was rendered without magic?"

When it was put that way, the idea made Harry wince in shame. What difference would be left between him and Voldemort, if he did, as he wished, kill Voldemort in the most painful way possible, when he was powerless and essentially a mundane?

"I never thought of it that way."

"Do you still wish to do so?"

"No." It was with complete clarity. "I don't know whether you will believe me, but truly, no."

"I do. You had already veered from that course when you realised that you had to accomplish magic's true purpose. You have chosen to divert the magic onto the path of new life. As I said, I have been watching. I knew when your thoughts changed, even though you hadn't realised that they had. It was when I knew it was time to help. The Great Spirits of the Universe, or as you call them, the elements, will be requested for their help. We can only pray that they acquiesce."

A sigh of relief was released by everyone in the room.

"Thank you, Mahacharya."

"Something troubles you still, my child."

"Yes," admitted Harry. There was nothing to hide. "All along, it has been expected that I should shoulder this burden. This I have borne. It will be expected again. I do not want that."

"The secret to not bearing unwanted burdens is to not think of them as such, child. It is a fact people routinely forget. You shall be nurtured and protected. Your ways might not be like Albus, but nurture and protect you will. So you should not make the mistake that he made. Remind the people of their duties and responsibilities. Initiate change. Don't force it. As I have learnt, nothing shames people more than learning from a child." As he said so, a twinkle that far outstripped Dumbledore's glittered in his eyes. "Take care of your people, and _your_ people, child. You will never think of all in the same manner, but it is not required from you."

The Teacher took his leave soon, after making arrangements to meet with them on the nineteenth of June. For the first time, the ones in the office had more answers than questions.

* * *

An internet cookie to anyone who recognises the solution. It was also the reason why I was absent. It was very rewarding. Few things in life are.


	54. Chapter 54

**The Fall and the Rise**

A/N **by MumbaiGirl1: This is the first chapter of this story that Canons ever wrote. My only contribution is actually posting it. One sort-of-epilogue follows. I wrote that.**

A/N: So well, this is my story in response to Reptillia28's challenge. It's actually rather amusing to write this chapter first, but then I always read a few pages of any book first and then jump to the end, so it makes sense to me.

I suppose many people will doubt the Harry. He was an opposite-Harry by design as a previous Chapter will have explained. It is my pet peeve that few people pay attention to the fact that guilt and failure, particularly in that character, can play a role in completely changing the way a person thinks and acts as he or she might go about correcting their mistakes. And, that is the objective of a Time Travel fanfic, isn't it?

If you have persevered through and accepted the story thus far, you have both my respect and my gratitude. Several readers might have scruples about killing and the general immorality displayed while eliminating every Death Eater, owning the magical world, and basically the fact that more than the fluff, if there has been any, it has been a revenge story. Many more will have rejected a pretty much OOC Harry. That really was the point all along. People, who are capable of love and compassion, are just as capable of hate and annihilation. Both are equally pure emotions.

* * *

There were few, if any, scruples against the final course of action. The closest was Hermione, who just wanted to know whether there was anyone who could be employed to the job. She really did want this other world, for to both of them, it would always be the other world, see the wonders they had grown up knowing. The simple fact that there would be problems with patents and those that wouldn't exactly see the difference wouldn't be covered by the International Statute for Secrecy, and the fact that she realised it herself, had her working to go through spuriously acquired geological maps.

It would not cause a supernatural disaster, so no innocent was likely to be killed. It would give several resources and paper over the cracks in the magical world with something close to tranquil beauty. The Ministry approved – they wanted to be part owners of the land, of course for a share of the resources. They quite forgot that the resources were just a by-product, not an end. So they were firmly but very politely rebuffed. The House of Slytherin and the Alliance chipped in for this, and the matter was covered.

There was a lot of work required. It had to rain precisely in those places and there had to be latent water sources. There was required to be fire in exactly the designated pits. It was necessary that it wouldn't be too windy. And the Earth had to be less rock and more soil. But it was rewarding in its own way, even without the fact that it was the last stage in the solution.

The single greatest problem though, was actually letting the effects of the ritual be simultaneously...present...everywhere. The ritual couldn't even be done in parts. How were they to put it across to nine places across England? The body couldn't be moved to different places to perform the ritual – in parts. The effects couldn't be communicated as they were thoroughly on a magical plane in that they were energy, and not as much matter. The energy would manipulate matter, but while the latter could be transported, how could the former, without moving the source?

The solution, when it came up, created problems of its own. Fortunately, they were all logistical in nature. It however, still included breaking a Law – the one regarding the regulation of magical transport. Broomsticks, Floo, Apparition and Portkey were the only allowed ways of magical transport. That was also circumvented. It was not only phoenixes that could carry immensely heavy loads. A team of dragons, with one of them being only sometimes a dragon, worked just fine.

In the midst of this hustle and bustle, the History OWL went by, as did the third year exams, without much ado.

* * *

Diagon Alley, on the morning of the twenty third of June, 1994, was experiencing nothing out of the ordinary – for the magical world, that is. The cleaner elves swept the cobbled paths; owls dropped in the Prophet, people apparated into the Leaky Cauldron for their daily pre-work pick-me-up – both food and a very mild drink – and met up with each other as they did so. There was a stage set in the centre of the square where Diagon Alley crossed with the road that led to Knockturn Alley and the old abandoned shopping area, blocking everything around it and had goblins guarding it.

All the people who had turned up for the 'normal' day stopped in their tracks. Goblins were _outside_ the bank en masse. There was a very large stage in the centre of the marketplace. This was so far removed from normal that people stood transfixed, watching nothing happen. It was nearly fifteen minutes before a few brave people walked up to the fearsome guardians of the stage.

"Excuse me, uh..."

"Sharpblade," the Garnarukro responded calmly.

"Thank you, er...Sharpblade. Could you tell me what is going on?"

"Yes."

The person looked at the Goblin expectantly, but no other answer was forthcoming. Sharpblade was having an excellent time ribbing the human this early in the morning. With the view they had all been given and with what they had been promised as entertainment...well, it was a happy day for Sharpblade. He had even had the human being polite to him.

"Will you tell me what is going on?"

"We are guarding the stage." It was the truth. The human was blind if he couldn't see it. And if he could see them guarding the stage and still asked, he was also a fool. That meant he could soon be parted from his money. _Hmm,_ thought the Garnarukro. _That would be something to look up later_.

Deciding that that was the extent of answers he would get the person beat a silent retreat before the goblin could think of implementing the idea of charging him for the answers. Sharpblade sighed. There was a reason why he was only a blade-wielder and not a banker as well.

Over the next three hours, people gathered and gathered. The anticipation of a show was as important an advertisement as a trailer was. This show had no trailers, just the element of surprise. But then again, it was likely that the content was of such quality, and more importantly, of such importance to the people, that nothing else would matter.

It was around eleven that morning when a loud roar sounded out across Diagon Alley. That it sounded out over and above the combined voices of over three and half thousand people meant everyone looked around in fear. The roar sounded out once more, and this time, it was closer, louder. This was followed by a body being quite literally dropped with a resounding crash onto the stage from quite a considerable height by an invisible medium. They barely had time to think before there was a massive gust of wind very close to the ground. All eyes turned to the body. All they could see was the glimpse of a very hefty dark haired man.

The anticipation that was now building got more impetus when two men, Sirius Black and Remus Lupin strode up to the body and tied it securely to something. Moments later, someone who seemed to be the work of fiction and myth for the everyday witches and wizards strode onto the stage. The King of the Garnarukran was on the stage. He gave the two men a respectful nod and then stomped on the stage hard. That was the cue for a tall transparent column to rise out of the stage. Black then levitated the body – and those who remembered the fiend gasped as they recognised Antonin Dolohov – and sent him feet first into the column, where he remained suspended in a parody of animals suspended in formaldehyde in labs.

David and Jean were watching from the terrace on top of a nearby shop. They had been told that this was the end of the war, for once and for all. They had also been warned that it could be the most gruesome end to a human body and what they saw could very well haunt them and colour their opinion of Harry forever negatively. Sirius, of course, didn't want his cousins making that mistake and had therefore showed them memory after memory of the atrocities perpetuated by the Death Eaters till Voldemort became the caricature-like lightning rod for all that was evil in the world.

Contrary to popular belief he wasn't. Voldemort was one of the several problems on the face of the earth that _could_ have become quite big, though not small to start with. It wouldn't matter after that day, though. Even he had nothing on the middle-eastern-to-just-west-of-India non-magical terrorists, either in terms of scale or inhumanity.

For the two parents though, there was more than just anger. There was fear. True, they had had their scruples about the actions that the Marauders' family had taken, and in which their daughter was embroiled. True, they held the morals that detested mindless violence and had passed them to their daughter. But there was nothing, nothing at all that could assuage the hatred and terror that the person, Voldemort now sparked in them. It was not destruction he caused. He was a sentient beast, at best, bent upon the annihilation of all that could be good.

That was exactly what they all wanted the world to know and think. For it was, as the group had known, not Voldemort the person who needed to be killed, but Voldemort the idea.

Not everything was according to plan on that account. Hermione was supposed to be there, with Harry, as always, while he struck that final blow. That was their place anyway, by each other's side. But David and Jean had put their foot down. It was funny how each side was adept at making unilateral decisions. Hermione had erased their memories. They had now disallowed her from participating in the days activities in any manner.

* * *

Choosing English for the day, the Garnarukran King shouted, " **WHEELS!** "

It seemed to be a stage on the road, instead turned out to be a cart of mammoth proportions. The guard goblins complied in perfect tandem, heaving the stage up and pushing the hubcaps in perfect synchronisation. The grooves in the road where the wheels had fit vanished. The lead dragon, one which the magical world in Britain was now very familiar with, shimmered into existence. A harness was strapped to the majestic beast, as it drew the cart to a large opening at the very back of the Alley, where the crescents of both the Knockturn and Technique Alleys joined to the main road that was the Diagon Alley, each becoming wider as it went further away from the shopping areas.

Where the procession stopped, for obviously, the three and half thousand strong throng _had_ to follow what looked like a show, there was enough space to park the cart five times over. The dragon transformed into a black pinstriped suit clad Harry Potter, complete with a white shirt and a navy blue tie, who strode over to the Goblin King, bowed and then stood to the other end of the dais.

Four more people, Albus Dumbledore and the three Wise Men in the Ministry, climbed on, even as ten giant hooks with chains started hovering in the air. Somebody had to give it an official feel.

Scrimgeour, as the Law and Order in-charge, spoke. "Good Morning. There is a lot that I can say to you on this day, with little that will truly mean much in the face of what we shall witness. Today marks the culmination of the war that started over two decades ago. As you all know Lord Voldemort was not dead. Today, we shall all be witness to his final moments, as a ritual to destroy his hold on life will be performed with the help of our esteemed guests," he pointed to the Mahacharya and his disciples, "freeing our world from this monster.

"This however, I must add. This monster was not alien to us. He came from among us, playing on our fears, on our beliefs and our prejudices. I simply implore you all today, to join us in this resolve – Never Again. Never again will we allow another Dark Lord to rise from amongst ourselves. Never again, will we stand and cower when we should fight. Never again shall we be anything but united, irrespective of our blood statuses, a vague concept in its entirety. Our differences have almost destroyed us. May this be a lesson for us, forever!" he prayed. "We have got another chance. I prefer to think of this as a warning. It should be the last one we should ever need."

Scrimgeour certainly had the speeches and dramatics part of being a politician down pat. Still, he deserved his moment in the sun – he had smoothed matters with the International Co-operation people, arranged the whole show, identified possible sympathetic malcontents and had generally done all that was expected from him. It just went to show that he didn't react well under pressure or the sort of challenge that a rampant Voldemort posed, but when that responsibility was taken off – not an alluring quality in a senior Auror – he worked his arse of. For all that he was a politician, he wasn't taking credit for what would be one – not that he would dare – and as a supportive Ministerial probability was a good choice.

The response of thunderous claps and the echoed "Never Again!", if truly adopted, would be what Magical Britain would need.

"There is also one small announcement. On this day, which future generations will study in the History of Magic texts, I am happy to announce that Candidate Hadrian James Potter has passed his History OWL with an EE grade."

It broke the tension a bit as there were shouts of congratulations.

Neville and the five Easterners were soon ready. Many would have wrongly thought this day to belong to Harry. It would in a way, for the final blow would be struck by him. But more than the killing of Crouch, more than his growth as a person in his own right, this one piece of magic would be the day when Neville, in practice would be The Longbottom – a man worthy of the name.

Clad in a beige, earthy robe of a natural cloth, he had caked his face and hand with mud from the gardens of Longbottom Hall, bearing the symbolism for the element of earth. He sat with the group of five from the East, in a circle around the column of the glass-like material.

The cave-like Herpetarium had hosted the guests and the Longbottoms for a week-long stay during which they had hashed out the nitty-gritty. He had spoken of and given of his family magic, learning and bearing the responsibility of it all. Augusta wished Frank and Alice would wake to see the boy and to be proud of who he had become – in spite of her early draconic influence, as she had by now accepted.

At exactly noon, the ritual started. First Dolo-Tom was revived.

"WHAT IS THIS?" he snarled. "WHAT...? POTTER! WHAT HAVE YOU COOKED UP TO TRY AND KILL ME? I AM UNKILLABLE! I AM IMMORTAL, EVEN IF YOU HAVE UNDONE MY FIRST ATTEMPT!"

It was often underestimated how a person dressed in the manner of a businessman could still be intimidating.

"You never did learn to accept what you did not understand, did you, Tom? You are being stripped of your magic," Harry informed him. "Now hush! I want to watch this."

"HOW...?"

"Silence, my dear boy, keep silence!"

Dolo-Tom was nonplussed by the tone of his tormentor. It was conspiratorial, a tone used for someone who was not part of the event but was a friend and spectator. The nine dragons that landed around the stage and roared shocked him as much as the spectators. Immediately, his tormentor-in-chief transformed, leaving him with nobody to even tell him what was going on. As such, he was the only one to recognise someone using Potter's cloak and becoming a stowaway on the stage, through the tell-tale shift of air in the absence of the wind.

In a clear voice, Neville sang in a tongue of the Vikings, which lent itself to a rhyme when roughly translated to English.

"Of her womb did the mother Earth us magic gift,

To her I pray to punish her traitorous child

Magic like water should flow uncontained

I pray the Spirit to release her wild

Through the four directions she should spread,

May the Wind free his kin once defiled

The darkness he dispels, burns and purifies

On Magic's behalf, oh Fire, be riled!"

The Teacher and his disciples started singing and chanting in their tongue, invoking the spirits again. At the Elder's signal, Neville threw something to his right, off the stage.

It was an acorn, traditionally planted in autumn, and a seed that took forever to grow to a tree.

But the Elements were riled, and were helping. The column lit with a brilliant light as an effluence started billowing through its top, even as a keening scream emanated from within.

The Wind blew gently to balance the acorn as it started its agonisingly slow descent. It sifted the earth apart around the spot where a lot of biodegradable waste had been buried, acquired from the mundane government. A fire started in that pit, burning it down to ashes, which were lifted and strewn on the earth, which had started tilling itself, making it well-ploughed, fertilised and just porous enough. A gentle rain joined soon, wetting it. The acorn fell to the ground, and the effluence touched it. Before their very eyes, the acorn sprouted and was buried deep within the earth's embrace. And then it grew into a sapling, then an adolescent tree, and then into a young strong one with a spread wide enough to cast a cool shadow. In a last act of joy, the wind, like a loving elder of a family, blew through the tree, as if ruffling a kid's hair lovingly.

The magical world watched, transfixed, as a magic greater, purer and more wonderful than words could describe played itself out.

Even as this happened, saplings of various trees emerged. Some had been planted already, some would grow from seeds. Flowering plants grew around the oak. The ritual was done there.

The team of dragons took off to the next location, where the ritual would be repeated. When nearly ninety minutes later, having added several native trees like the Alder, the Ash, the Aspen, the Apple, the Beech, the Birch, Cherry, Dogwood, Elder, Elm and so many more, people were still watching the wild beautiful garden with the unpaved paths.

Magical Britain had just got nine Magical groves, nine memorial gardens to remember what had brought it to that point, and what they would strive to never be.

* * *

The stage landed again, before the largest dragon thanked the others for their assistance. These were all Common Welsh Greens or Hebridean Blacks, and wild. Harry had visited them the week before with gifts of steer and had requested their help.

On the stage, the goblin king dropped the column, releasing a wispy, weakened shell of a man. The Officials and Dumbledore who had exited the stage before the ritual started, had returned and were helping the six ritual casters – all of whom were exhausted and were being cheered by the crowd – of the stage and into a makeshift tent where they were quickly tended to. In the interim, the stage was rearranged to seat them.

Dolo-Tom would still be executed, and it had to be a show.

Ten minutes later, the man was seated on a seat like the one in the Wizengamot, all chained up. The others were all sitting on raised chairs, the Teacher and the disciples having chosen to disappear. This point onwards it would be a spectacle of death, something they wanted no part of. They would be thanked in a private ceremony later, if only for the Ministry's happiness.

Dumbledore looked...less gray... as he stood to speak. He even moved with a lightness that was never before seen on him, as if he had been able to shake away some shackles he had been bound with.

"As the Ministry In-Charge for Law and Order, Rufus Scrimgeour has given the best message that we need to learn from this, I will not waffle on about it. I stand here to tell you that it is done. Between the Houses of Potter and Longbottom, the necromantic magics of Voldemort have been stripped away, and now, so has his magic.

"Long ago, a prophecy bound the two houses and Lord Voldemort in a way few ever were. They were, or to be true, the unborn babies of the two Houses were, through a series of curious events, made the champions of our world against this threat. Where we and our generation failed, and so did everyone else, the Potter couple succeeded, at the cost of their lives, giving us a much-needed respite. Yet, we failed them. I failed them. And it fell upon the House of Potter to counter Voldemort's magics. And in spirit of the prophecy, but more in that of the ancient brotherhood between them, the House of Longbottom shook away his insurance – a way to kill us all if he died.

"There is no reasoning with him. There is no asking why. But I believe that if there is anyone who has the right to talk to Voldemort one last time, it is these two young men."

"We don't want to. He has caused enough harm," Neville, freshly returned from the tent replied.

"I am in full agreement with Neville."

"All the same, it is policy for a criminal to be executed to be in full possession of his senses."

So he was revived.

It took a few moments for Dolo-Tom to realise what had happened. "No," he murmured. "No, no, no, no, no, NO! NO! NO! What have you done?" He looked really wild. "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE? WHAT HAVE YOU DONE? NO! NO! NO!"

It was pitiful. There was no other word for it. How many people had uttered those words as Tom had destroyed their very lives?

"As you can understand, we have taken away your magic Voldy," Sirius butted in, unable to resist taking a dig at the heinous shell of heinous man. "You are now what you hated. You no longer have the powers which you boasted of, which you used to kill people."

"You are to be executed, Lord Voldemort," Rufus Scrimgeour officiously informed him. "You have no tricks left."

Tom was shocked for a few moments. Then he did something totally uncharacteristic. He cried. He cried for mercy. "Please! I am sorry. I am sorry! I really am..."

In that moment, all that was left was the Tom who was exposed as the bully he was.

It is a curious thing about mobs. They had seen a once terrifying Dark Lord reduced to a blubbering mess. Yet they wanted to see blood spilt again. A chant of "Kill!" filled the air.

They were, all of them, were looking at Harry and Neville to do the deed. A group of several thousand people, crammed into every nook and cranny of the square-that-was-now-a-garden, and at least two thousand of whom were allowed to use their wands, were screaming at two nearly fourteen-year-olds to kill a depowered Dark Lord who had been handed to them on a platter.

It was disgusting. They were no strangers to drawing blood. Harry had even killed another boy his age. But he had never been expected to kill. All his life he had been manipulated. And now he was being again, on the basis of public demand.

"You will kill me for them, Potter?" spoke the snide voice of Voldemort, as he attempted his last manipulation. "Are you willing to be their weapon? These people should have taken me down years ago. They couldn't. They wouldn't. They are just sheep and goats, willing to gore each other with their horns, but never taking down the predator, even with a lucky stroke."

It was hard to ignore that, especially with the other so-called dignitaries, including the Auror Chief looking at them just as expectantly.

"Or perhaps, you will justify it as revenge, Longbottom, even though in your hearts you will know you helped a bunch of idiots who didn't deserve to be saved? The Great Houses, reduced to being the henchmen of the magical world. You will just be used. Is that what you are? Do you even know?"

"STOP!" growled Neville angrily, though whether it was to the people or to Voldemort, nobody knew. All he knew was that this was not what he had envisioned. This didn't feel like a victory. He glanced at his best mate and the furrowed brow and grim determination he saw reflected on his face told Neville what he needed to know. If Harry used a sword, it would not be to cut Riddle's head only. After what he had seen, he found himself unable to disagree. Even now, it was not a clamour for justice – they didn't demand it from the Ministry. They demanded it from them.

"That prophecy that the Headmaster alluded to, it was a piece of work you know?" Harry spoke out into the silence in a musing tone, not looking at anyone. He felt a feminine hand slip into his and holding it tight before letting go. "Voldemort knew a part of it. Oh get over it!" he snapped. "He is done for. He doesn't even have strength to beat you up, damn it!"

A large part of the contingent had performed the wince and shudder routine. They looked contrite and nervously sheepish at the rebuke.

"As I was saying, Voldemort didn't know that crucial part of the Prophecy." He casually called or the Sword of Gryffindor and it materialised in his hands. It made a very weird picture, the muggle businessman with the Sword. "Do you know, Voldemort, what that part was?"

"That you'd be the weapon of a stupid world?" answered the bound mortal man spitefully.

"I would say that that is a very good guess. It is fortunately untrue. No. It said that I or Neville would have the Power you knew not, Voldy. Turns out, we both did."

There were nervous chuckles from the crowd as they tried to work out where this went.

"But that was not all. The other part was that you, Voldemort, would mark us as your equals. So we were equals once – till you were defeated that is. And you have been. That means equals in power – we three were exactly as powerful as the other, or would be, because neither of us has Voldemort's experience.

"Anyway, let me come back to the point. It was not just power that we were equal in. The marked one would be able to think like Voldemort, act like Voldemort, and be him, if need be."

A twinge of fear ran across several faces, as they had a small inkling about where this would lead.

Harry turned to Sirius. "Would you mind releasing the House of Malfoy to me?"

"It is yours."

"Thank you." He turned back to the crowd. "So now, I was marked in a way, so I needed to know what he did," he continued, pointing the Sword at Voldemort. "So I had...a prophetic dream, you could say. I saw this Alley destroyed. I saw Bellatrix Lestrange running around spreading her brand of joy. I saw newbloods and halfbloods begging in the streets. I saw people I loved murdered. I saw what he had done. But it wasn't the worst part at all. It was what you all did."

"What was the worst part? What did everyone do?" a little girl of about seven holding a doll asked fearfully. She was clutching her mother's hand.

Harry knelt to pat her cheek. "Do you want to know?"

She nodded vigorously, her braided pigtails swinging wildly.

"Nothing; they did nothing at all. When Peter Pettigrew murdered a young man because he was in the way when he needed me to resurrect this beast, nobody did anything because Pettigrew was dead and so was Voldemort and everyone knew that. We saw how dead they were, didn't we? All because the Ministry was bought by the Death Eaters, our world lost one year of preparedness and countless lives. Nobody stood against Dolores Umbridge when she started camps for the newbloods and murdered them; just like Hitler. If you don't know who that is, find out." He turned to Scrimgeour. "Tell us Auror Scrimgeour, you adopted the 'Never Again' line. Did you find her plans?"

The man just nodded. It shocked the people to their bones.

"Nobody stood up to say, "No more"." He pointed at people at random, chanting, "You didn't!" before pacing the stage. "I doubted the truth of that dream. I doubted it even when my godfather broke out of Azkaban. I doubted it when I found my true family that was taken from me because the Ministry abused its own laws. And all of you let them. I doubted it till this day, for I believed that this world had some good in it. You disillusioned me.

"I stand here while you demand that I kill him, after we have rendered him powerless. You refuse even now to fight him. Any of you could raise your wand. One piercing curse into his chest or head or throat will kill him. But not one of you will do it. It saddens me and tells me one more thing."

"What does it tell you?" asked someone else.

"It tells me that you don't deserve the freedom killing Voldemort will give you. It tells me why we need someone who is his equal, just not his policies and beliefs and murderous intent. Thankfully, in spite of my doubts, I had long since decided to keep a plan B ready, just in case."

A wave of his wand unfurled and expanded to full size a banner bearing the new House Crest of Potter – a Griffin and a dragon in flight. Underneath were the words, "I find a way, or I make one."

He then turned to the Lord-Director. "My Lord, a mixture of the plan of my parents and the Granger solution at my Account Managers' discretion..."

"...with the Malfoy and Prince monies, and with the ten million galleon bounty on his head, will be put into motion immediately. With those three added bounties, you are level with the Death Eaters, Forsythe. Gringotts will have aggressive policies in that regard."

"Thank you, my Lord." He turned back to the crowd. "As I have realised, you don't deserve to be free. I don't even need to do what he did. I can do it legally. As of now, I own your world. Every supplier to your businesses is mine. All I have to do is pull my money out of your world and it will be destroyed, with no working capital for any supply goods. I won't care. I will turn a blind eye to your troubles, doing just what you did."

"You can't!" shouted Dumbledore, horrified.

"I can. And I can wholly forsake your world, while still keeping my Houses. You need your Head of Houses to have at least one OWL." He waved the OWL result at his Headmaster. "You signed my freedom."

He casually nicked Voldemort with the poisoned sword. It would take him five minutes to die.

"My demands are placed in the Ministerial Chambers. They will be published tomorrow in all the newspapers. They shall be met," he informed the Ministerial candidates lightly. "It will lead to stopping your murder at the hands of whatever new Dark Lord your world spews out, Mr. Scrimgeour, that of your son by said Dark Lord's scaredy friend-framing rat of a minion, Mr. Diggory and your use as a planted, truly imperiused, quasi-Death Eater, Mr. Thicknesse to replace Mr. Scrimgeour. I am sure you will thank me for that." There; he had placed the seeds of unease and slight distrust along with urgency to look through those suggestions. Those were the things in the diary and the things Ted Tonks had handpicked for change, knowing the position. He only thought it was going to be the future agenda for House Potter. "If they are, you will all find that this world will change for the better. If not, the Houses of Potter-Peverell, Gryffindor and Slytherin will be gone, with our funds."

It was the Dark Lord's way, to have demands in lieu of the threats. Except it wasn't murder he was threatening them with. Life and Death were overrated anyway. He was threatening them with the destruction of any way in which they could carry on being another world, and therefore forcibly having to integrate with the non-magicals. And Gringotts, for all its wisdom, was forgetting that gold was not the currency there. They would be able to find a way around it, though, so it would not matter.

The thing he did for the Greater Good.

"So, what do you say?"

There was just silence, before Voldemort uttered his famous last words. "I am proud of you Potter. At least someone worthy got me in the end."


	55. Chapter 55

**Epilogue**

This ends the story. To all you dear readers, reviewers (some of you have reviewed every chapter; thanks again), favouriteers, followers, thank you. Thank you for staying with this story and for reading it and leaving your very valued responses. This story is whatever it is because of you, and we could never thank you enough for your participation.

* * *

The aftermath of the new House of Potter was disconcerting at best. There was little to do against him when, as Harry had said, he owned much of their world. His share wasn't truly the largest, but when taken out, it was enough to crash the Magical Economy and send it into a state of depression and inflation by the cascade effect of having no means to produce anything more. As such, the demands, which made him the most benevolent person to ever be even whispered of as a Dark Lord, were met.

The tenets were simple - no blood-based bigotry, pure meritocracy, no discrimination against magical races, and a policy of technomantic advancement. He had to have something to benefit him otherwise he would just be a not-Dark Lord. That wouldn't do.

On a personal level, though, Harry knew he would be overstaying his welcome there. He didn't think he would be accepted by his peers. And given the fact that he had exhorted them to actually take a stand against oppression, it would be rather hypocritical of him to want to be accepted. So he left to take his exams to cover for his three missed years, and ended up being a regular student in a regular school.

He never would have believed that his wish of being "Just Harry" would be fulfilled in the regular world. He attended school, made it to the school football team as a defender, and went on to achieve the required scores to get into electrical engineering at the Imperial College, London, while simultaneously being tutored in magic. He lived with Sirius and Amelia and their children – the twins James Edgar (who took the Bones name) and Regulus Arcturus, another son Procyon Aries and daughter Juliet Cassiopeia – because he was Sirius' kid, and Sirius was lapping up every moment where he was required to be the proud father to his godson.

As for the Black name, both Marlene and Sirius knew that they just couldn't be married. As agreed, Marlene met Amelia three months after the birth of the twins in early 1995. She predictably threw a fit. Marlene allowed her to rage, before simply informing her that she was the Dr. McCraig who had helped Sirius (he only needed to see her till about a month before the birth of the twins, going so far as to give her an oath that they had no other relation except as a doctor and a patient and probably friends. It did not please Amelia much, but it was irrefutable proof. Sirius still had to sleep on the couch for a week. Dogs find that very comfortable.

Marlene's objective was in fact much in line with Amelia's. She had a great friend at the College where she was a visiting lecturer, and she wished for there to be a possibility for more Dr. Michael Rogers. She wanted to be free of the contract with Sirius, and so needed help from the legal department and possibly the Department of Mysteries to get around it.

It was Percy, now an associate with the Tonks-Greengrass-Doge firm, who found the loophole in their contract. They were contracted to be the birth parents to the _male_ Heir Black. As someone conversant with the medical field and with the laws related to the procedure, she suggested surrogacy. Initially very sceptical about it all, Amelia eventually accepted it, becoming the altruistic gestational surrogate mother to Procyon Aries – because the Heir of Black had to have a poncy name.

On the work front, things were a bit more difficult for her due to her relation with Harry. He was still considered to be somewhat of a Dark Lord, though not fully because all his actions were entirely within the ambit of law. She persevered. As such, it became boring. Fearing for their livelihoods, after the initial, failed, three month long boycott of all suppliers supported by the Houses of Potter, Gryffindor and Slytherin (which led to immediate inflation as they then had to look outside Britain leading to increased prices), it was termed stupid to be involved in the sort of movement that opposed the new policy. Her work reduced to checking up on probable criminal elements and countering petty crime and the sort.

Eventually, getting bored to tears, she replaced Remus – the Lord Lupin – as the defence teacher at Hogwarts.

He in turn, travelled the world in his role as the functional chief of the James and Lily Potter Institute for Research on Lycanthropy (JLPIRL). He met Patricia Ruther again when the Alice Longbottom Health Centre and Research Institute (previously named after James and Lily) collaborated over research about the degree of genetic lycanthropic traits passed on to offspring. They did get married, and though their first daughter, Anna, wasn't Teddy, she loved 'Hawwy' a lot. He spoiled her silly, and she had him wrapped around her little finger. It was the same with little Lily Amelia, named after the two women who had made Remus feel accepted, along with their husbands.

* * *

Dumbledore had a hard time coming to grips with the post-Voldemort world. He felt particularly responsible for Harry going dark. That phase lasted a full six-months, a period of time during which he saw the changes he had once dismissed as a utopian vision actually start in pockets. By the end of the full year, he could see that the change wasn't bad at all.

He sought out Minerva – she no longer lived in the castle, instead choosing her home in Surrey with her family – and through her, Harry. He hadn't known what to say, except for another apology. He found himself instantly forgiven. Harry was happy being Harry Potter in the normal world with his loving family, instead of **_Harry Potter_** in the magical world.

It was just after the TriWizard, which had become the Tri-School Olympiad and something that Hogwarts propelled by _the_ Hermione Granger, _the_ Daphne Greengrass and _the_ Luna Lovegood had won. He remembered his promise to the boy and offered to teach him again. He received a conditional agreement – Dumbledore would in no way ask Harry to return to the magical world beyond House Business. In truth, the old man couldn't find it in himself to take away the newly gained happiness of the boy.

"I only believe that it would be better to conduct the instruction at Hogwarts. I have often felt that the school misses you."

"She mightn't. I do visit my girlfriend and my other friends, you know," Harry replied. "I don't think you want to know how happy Hermione was when I told her it was my idea to change the Tournament format."

Dumbledore could do no more than laugh.

When he died a decade later in the new millennium, he had lived a most fulfilling ten years during which he wrote a new book on the complete Transfiguration Theory, another on Enchanting with Harry, a memoir, gained a new relative in the new Heiress Dumbledore, Amanda Martin, saw the birth of the SGDG (Slytherin Gryffindor Dagworth-Granger, because Electricity Boards must have acronyms) Electric Company, the new form of courier services, the death of Portkeys and the Floo Network as they were replaced by the Potter-Bluewater Transport, and saw the birth of the new University of Magic which was opened by Heir Greengrass to augment the new professions. He was buried at Hogwarts, dying a happy and revered teacher.

* * *

Hermione on her part was at first not happy with Harry's decision to leave. Nor were Neville, Luna, Ron or any of the other friends. However, within the first month after Voldemort's death, they saw how their friend was viewed, and couldn't dispute it. When he turned up every two or three days, assisted by Peeves and Headless Nick, though, the storm in the teacup was quelled.

That meant study time with Hermione, with appropriate rewards. She helped him with the magical subjects in exchange for her teaching her to be an animagus and helping her with her non-magical subjects. She turned into a cat first by the end of the fourth year, with a bushy brown coat and a bushy brown long tail which had Crookshanks perving on her. She made sure to never transform when the half-Kneazle was around. It was late in her fifth year while she was attempting her second transformation (the tigress) when she found out about the charm he used while teaching her and Luna. When she turned 17, she made him drop the charm.

It turned out she was quite brainy, and bookish and as expected, privately adventurous. She would very lazily dress as she enjoyed the nervousness, the deer-in-the-headlights look warring with sheer desire. Their relationship had progressed enough without ever going all the way and she was happy with that, but she loved to tease him. She also made the 'mistakes' many times.

Onto more serious matters though, she asked to see his memories; all of them. He showed her them all without reservation. She passed no judgement, instead opting to kiss him. Then, together, they threw away those last dregs of his last life. He forgot it all. She didn't. That came out in various ways. They never had an amorous fumble in a broom closet, and she never shouted when in anger. She instead would wait, calm down and explain, never assuming he would know what had earned her ire. He learnt to remember the reasons and try to explain beforehand or avoid those things. He was a challenge, and she happily accepted it.

His pet peeve, the magical world still discounting women, endeared him more. When she became Lady Dagworth-Granger, he was present, endorsing her with all his houses. When she kicked Roger Davies where it hurt most for inappropriate conduct, he cheered her on. When she became a healer before joining the research wing of the Longbottom Institute, he was there to be her patient, and then her liaison with his contacts.

They could not make a law dictating personal behaviour beyond emotional, mental and physical abuse, so the only option was by promoting her indirectly and showing pride in her achievements to become an example. It was no hardship, particularly when youngsters actually looked up to him as their world changed. It soon went up to acknowledging her contribution openly in the Wizengamot, or deferring to her on some things. They never spoke it, but by 2001, they were the 'Golden Couple' in spite of many in the older generation – the remnants of the Death Eater and conservative families considering him a Dark Lord.

Her biggest moment came a few days after their engagement when she met Lily and James. By this time, she already knew the dark history of the house she was marrying into. Still, it had taken a lot to not be scared. Harry had had it easier; her parents were living and had known him well, with David joining Harry on the sailboat training and with the cars. She was particularly scared when Lily took her aside to grill her. She quite forgot that she would be talking to a woman actually her age. She ended up making a close friend.

* * *

Luna who first interned with Magicomm, the communications company was held in similarly high regard by Harry.

She found it incredibly difficult to date in Hogwarts. Having the two killers of Voldemort as older brothers was too daunting for anyone who knew her. Somehow, whenever she was on a date, a loveable grim-like pup used to guard her. When Michael Corner blushingly tried to once take her to the place of clandestine chats for Hogwarts students, he found the dog chasing after him. Obviously Luna hexed the pup. So from the next time, she found a huge bear ambling about, thankfully, when Zacharias Smith thought to have some fun. That was good.

Giving dating up as a bad job, she turned to the notes Harry had left her, managing to design a complete live transmission system with Bathsheba Babbling and patented it. She launched several channels – news, entertainment, and the like. It was when she was setting up the magical version of the animal planet in 2003 when she met Rolf Scamander, grandson of _the_ Newt Scamander and a recent Hogwarts alumnus. They set up more than the channel.

Rolf Scamander was generally considered the unluckiest bloke in the magical world, given the people who got to threaten him, very subtly on Luna's behalf. He found out it wasn't as bad as it could have been. He knew though that his children, Lorcan and Lysander, were going to be the most terrifying hellions. They had Fred, George, Harry, Neville, Sirius, James, Regulus and Procyon as role-models. The poor man had remained largely inconspicuous through his time at Hogwarts, but had mentally resigned himself to getting complaints every week.

In 2008, they did manage to prove the existence of the Snorcacks, barely two years after finding a way to make ectoplasmic creatures visible to the naked eye.

* * *

Neville, interestingly, chose to join Hermione in the Research Institute. His record Herbology, Care and Potions scores and the follow-up Mastery courses, made him a perfect candidate. Apart from his businesses, and the biweekly football, there was nothing to divert him from his ambition of curing his parents. The process is ongoing. He never asked Susan, hung up on Cedric as she was, out. The French TriWizard Champion found the quietly authoritative, fairly good-looking co-defeater of Voldemort interesting. To Fleur Delacour, the quiet, funny, clever young man, who knew to handle his new fame and yet keep his beloved friends close was infinitely more interesting.

* * *

Susan chose a different route. As an actress, musician and writer, she was the most visible of the lot. It led her to eventually bridge the magical-non-magical divide.

The Weasleys moved up fairly high as they worked hard on their new businesses. Ron was the first to marry when he had an accident with Tracey Davis of all people, while he played the part of a rake, earning Harry's ire. The added responsibility matured him faster. He had half a million Galleons of his own, though he never played for the Cannons. He managed the business side of the signature restaurant, "Molly's" with great determination. It had been the making of Ron Weasley, and it was something Molly Weasley was eternally grateful. The Twins had their shop, and Percy had become a valued member of the firm. Ginny was playing for the Wimbourne Wasps after a record transfer from the Holyhead Harpies. It was a better time for them than they had known before.

* * *

It was on the 4th of May, 2002 that Harry finally proposed. They were at the Principality Stadium in Cardiff, watching on as Freddie Ljunberg hammered in one from 25 yards. The celebratory kiss was followed by him going down on bended knee in that cramped space. People thought that he slipped and fell. Hermione's happy squeal was lost in the stadium. As was her whisper, "We are going to find a room tonight. I have waited long enough!"

He could only grin. It persisted till the end of the game as they watched the Arsenal number 8 get caught and interrupted in his victory jig by a reporter.

Neville, standing beside Harry, and having just been asked to be the best man for the wedding of Hadrian James Potter to Hermione Jean Dagworth-Granger, of Hadrian James Slytherin to Hermione Granger, daughter of House Greengrass, and of Hadrian James Gryffindor to Hermione Granger, daughter of House Dearborn, thereby neatly circumventing the law of plural marriages which was being heavily debated, asked his friend, "How does it feel?"

He just looked around and in the stands just directly in line with him, he saw a doppelganger of the woman he called a grandmother. She grinned, winked, and vanished from sight. He knew he'd be visited in his dreams soon.

In tandem with the man-of-the-match, Harry replied, "It's fuckin' excellent!"


End file.
